Heirs of the King
by greenleaf-in-bloom
Summary: A six-book series, not chaptered. BOOKS ONE THROUGH FOUR COMPLETE! From after the WR. In Gondor, there has been relative peace for some time, but a shadow has been rising in the North, and in Gondor, it seems the King's family must act.
1. Series Prologue

9 February, 41 of the Fourth Age in Minas Tirith  
  
Prologue to  
  
Heirs of the King  
  
by greenleaf-in-bloom  
  
There were four of them - four Heirs of the King - and soon would be five. Eldarion glanced again at the room where his younger sister was, then looked back at the wall.  
  
He was thirty years old - very young, for being part Numenorean Ranger, part Elf, and even a small part Valarian. His duties were simple in these days. He was Captain-General of the City, but the only thing he currently had to do was get rid of the large orc-tribes living in the Greywood.  
  
And soon, to help raise his new neice or nephew.  
  
For his brother-in-law Caladin's sake, and the sake of the child, he hoped it would be a nephew. But he had known immediately that Caladin was not the kind of man who deserved his sister, and he certainly wouldn't deserve to have a child. Although there was no knowing what the child would grow up to be like, with Caladin for a father.  
  
He looked at his brother-in-law, who was sitting unconcernedly in a padded chair beside him. Barely twenty, he was three years younger than Malgil. They had gotten married seven months ago. The baby was coming one month early. Complications could be expected with this child, the midwife had warned - Caladin hadn't seemed to be listening, but Eldarion was. Complications - what did that mean?  
  
+++++  
  
'Is Malgil -?' Eldarion started to ask as Caladin closed the door to the side chamber.  
  
'She's all right,' Caladin shrugged.  
  
'And the baby?'  
  
Caladin shrugged again. 'The baby has strange eyes.'  
  
Eldarion stared disbelievingly at the man. That was all he could say?  
  
'I've got to get back to my post,' Caladin said offhandedly. 'Malgil wanted you to come in.'  
  
Eldarion stood and walked to the door. Caladin left, and he touched the door knob, then opened the door.  
  
Malgil was lying on the bed, looking utterly exhausted but smiling wearily at the tiny form in her arms. She looked up at Eldarion as he closed the door behind him.  
  
'Are you all right?' he asked her softly.  
  
'I'm fine,' his sister assured him. Seeing his look, she added, 'and so is he.'  
  
'He?' Eldarion whispered. 'There weren't any - any complications?'  
  
Malgil smiled. 'You want to hold him?'  
  
Eldarion nodded, reaching down and lifting the bundle of blankets from his sister's arms.  
  
'He's so tiny,' the young man breathed.  
  
'He's unusually small, the midwife said,' Malgil said quietly, 'but healthy.'  
  
'And he's quiet.' The child opened his eyes, and Eldarion started. Caladin had been right. The infant's eyes were a shockingly pale grey. 'What's his name?'  
  
Malgil smiled more widely, her face shining. 'Celebros,' she said gently. 'Celebros Ithilron Telcontar. Caladin didn't mind that we weren't giving him his surname.' A strange expression crossed her face suddenly, and she asked, 'Are Mother and Father here?'  
  
'They were on their way, last I heard,' Eldarion nodded. 'Mother didn't want to come until Father could, and he was discussing the Greywood situation with Faramir until he heard.'  
  
Celebros blinked sleepily and made a gurgling noise.  
  
'He's just so small,' Eldarion said again. He pulled back the blankets a bit to examine the child's brown hair.  
  
Malgil nodded, something strange crossing her face again. 'I don't think Caladin is very excited,' she murmered. 'He said he didn't care what I wanted to name him, said he was tiny and his eyes were strange. Then he left.'  
  
All of which were true, Eldarion thought to himself.  
  
'Rillen and Tariel will be coming later tonight,' Eldarion told her, hoping to cheer her up a bit. Even though Tariel was twelve years younger than Malgil, and Rillen was only seventeen, both Malgil and her brother loved the two youngest children of King Elessar and Queen Arwen. Malgil smiled, and Eldarion handed his little nephew back to his sister carefully.  
  
Through a thin opening in the crimson velvet curtains, a bright ray of sunlight, the first of the day, shone in on three of the few Heirs of the King. 


	2. Book One: Shadow in the North

Thank you, my beautiful 3 reviewers, and I know that my travel times and geography, etc, are not all wonderful, although the next books are better - they improve as they go along. Again, thank you, and please stick with it.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own King Elessar, Queen Evenstar, Legolas, Gimli, or I suppose Eldarion.  
  
Book I: Shadow in the North Being the first part of Heirs of the King Also known as Tales of the Gondorian Kings And After the Ring: Stories of the Heirs of Aragorn son of Arathorn  
  
The fire was going out. Celebros threw the last of the fuel onto it and wrapped his cloak around himself. It was cold, and he would need to keep all the warmth and strength he had. Halbarad, his silver-grey horse, stamped nervously. Celebros thought he caught a glimpse of something darting through the trees; a shadowy figure, swift and dexterous. But no, it couldn't be. Some beast perhaps, or a shadow of his teenage imagination. No one was in the Greywood in March.  
  
Except him, and his quarries.  
  
There was a quiet in the clearing, and Halbarad whinneyed uneasily, stomping his shoed feet. Glancing into the trees, Celebros' hand snuck over to the heap where his swordbelt lay. It landed on smooth leather; his saddle, the mark of Minas Tirith embroidered into the side. He ran his fingers lightly over it. His head shook back and forth; this was not a time to be thinking of home, when there might be an enemy in the trees around him. Nonetheless he continued to stare at it and feel it. Its familiarity gave him a small degree of comfort, of safety. It would not be long before he was done with his work here. King Elessar would be expecting him in a few days now. The King, his grandfather.  
  
A sigh escaped his lips. He was sixteen, he should not be homesick after only a couple weeks of orc-hunting without seeing them; his mother Malgil, and his father Caladin, a Guard of the City, and Eldarion his mother's older brother. Especially Eldarion. He and his parents were not very close. And the King, of course. He pulled his hand reluctantly away from the saddle and his eyes rose.  
  
He caught another glimse of whoever it was: a tall figure, silent as the moon and the stars. An Elf? Mystified, he stared through the darkness. He had unusual good sight for a Man, not as good as that of an Elf, but still quite keen. He saw the figure stop.  
  
Celebros crept forward, but not quietly enough. He stepped on a branch and winced; a loud crack echoed around him and into the woods. The figure spun around.  
  
'Who are you?' Celebros asked. His voice was carefully steadied. It should have been neutral, but he kept warning and curiousity.  
  
'What do you want?' The voice was silky, smooth, and calm. It sounded musical, like flowing water. Celebros nodded to himself. It was an Elf, beyond any doubt.  
  
'What reason do you have not to tell me your name?'  
  
'These are dangerous times, young one, and one cannot be certain whether anyone can be trusted. Are you of Galadon of the North, or of Gondor and its allies?'  
  
Celebros almost laughed. 'I'm from Minas Tirith. I'm the King's grandson. I have no interest in the joining the likes of Galadon, but Gondor does not yet openly oppose him.' He didn't realize until it was out of his mouth how stupid it was to reveal his heritage.  
  
'I see.' The elf paused, and added as if it were of little relevance, 'Galadon is my cousin.'  
  
Celebros's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He opened his mouth, ready to defend his words. Seeing this, the elf smiled and shook her - his? Her? - head.  
  
'I am against him. I have reason to believe he is responsible for the disappearance of my brother.'  
  
Celebros' mouth opened in puzzlement.  
  
'Who are you?' the Elf said suddenly. Celebros was almost sure it was a female.  
  
'My name is Celebros. The King Elessar Telcontar is my grandfather, through my mother Malgil. My father Caladin is a Guard of the City.'  
  
'What are you doing wandering the Wild, if you are who you say?'  
  
'I'm hunting orcs. There are a few yet in these parts of the woods, you know. What about you?'  
  
'My name is Cundariel. I come from the North. I am an Elf of Eryn Lasgalen, but left it when I was young. Once I lived in Imladris, but when Lord Elrond left, I went with my friends Elladan and Elrohir to the Wild. There we, too, hunted orcs. After several years, my companions left to return to Imladris. However, I did not return. It held memories of things that did not bear remembering for me. I stayed in the Wild, and have lived there now for some time. But now I have an urgent message I must carry to the King Elessar, about Galadon of the North.' She smiled, grimly but with a hint of fond remembrance of days past, although Celebros thought they were not of her cousin.  
  
Cundariel continued. 'There are orcs in the woods, yes. I met a few today.' She looked regretful. 'I lost my throwing stars. Several escaped me.'  
  
'You fought orcs today?' Celebros was stunned. This girl - well, woman, - was perfectly calm and unruffled, and apparently unmarked. 'Are you hurt at all? My city is close, and my grandfather a healer.'  
  
The Elf studied him carefully.  
  
'Do you need a place to sleep? You must be tired,' he added.  
  
She raised her eyebrows at him and nodded, a small smile on her face. 'Sleep would be good, yes.'  
  
It was after she had lay down on her light green cloak, after he had thought she was asleep, that he heard her murmer softly, 'Thank you, Celebros.'  
  
+++++  
  
Cundariel sighed. It had been nearly a year since she had spoken civilly to anyone in the Wild. Celebros seemed kind enough. But, she reminded herself, he was a Man. Lord Elrond had taught her of the weaknesses of Men. She would have to watch him and decide whether he was a worthy companion.  
  
As a grandson of the King Elessar, she could trust him. Probably. He had the look about him, a hint in his speech of the Lady Evenstar. His good sight was what had caused her to believe him, however. He was undoubtedly part Elf, and his smile, too, had something of his grandmother about it. It was not hard to believe his identity.  
  
She ran over in her head what she had to say to the King Elessar, and sighed. Soon she would be able to rid herself of worry and urgency.  
  
The moon was shrouded by the clouds, and she was tired. She would sleep that night, she knew. Generally she would not, but sleeping now seemed like the better option. No moon, and the stars too were hidden.  
  
Before falling asleep, she sighed quietly. It was better to rest than go on, she decided. 'Thank you, Celebros.'  
  
She didn't know if he heard her, because he made no reply.  
  
Sleep came, and drove away doubt.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros awoke early the next morning after an uneasy sleep to find that the Elf was already awake. She was talking quietly to Halbarad, her voice low, but when she heard him stand she turned hastily and stopped speaking.  
  
'Good morning,' he said awkwardly.  
  
'Indeed,' Cundariel said softly. 'I had best leave as soon as I can, but I wanted to thank -'  
  
'Actually,' Celebros broke in, 'if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to come with you. Do you have a horse somewhere?'  
  
'No. He was killed by orcs a week ago.'  
  
There was a pause, and then Celebros spoke again. 'That's unfortunate.'  
  
Cundariel seemed suddenly embarrassed. 'My message is urgent,' she said slowly, '...could your horse bear two people?'  
  
Celebros nodded. 'Just let me gather my things.' Hurridly he did this, but did not saddle the horse. It would be uncomfortable, and he had heard that Elves rode barebacked. Before long they were ready.  
  
But Halbarad would not move.  
  
'What's wrong with him?' Celebros muttered, stroking the horse's head.  
  
'Noro lim,' Cundariel said, smiling. Halbarad leapt forward suddenly.  
  
'What -' Celebros was puzzled.  
  
'I told him to ride,' Cundariel said, smiling. 'He isn't used to so much weight. And -' Her smile faded, and her eyes narrowed as if she were thinking very hard. 'There are orcs near. He is frightened.'  
  
The forest soon gave way to field, and with each hoofstep they neared Minas Tirith.  
  
+++++  
  
The Guard saw a young man riding up on horseback at a great speed, and did not know what to think. It was not a soldier, for he wore little armor: vambraces and a leather chest covoring. They saw, also, that there was another figure on the horse, apparently motionless.  
  
Then they saw the face of the young rider, and the doors were flung open.  
  
'Where is the King Elessar?' Celebros cried loudly. His voice was strong, but he was swaying in his saddle and clutching one of his arms.  
  
'In the Hall, or last we heard,' they told him.  
  
Without another word, Celebros turned and galloped away in the direction of the gates to the Inner City.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros threw the reins of his horse to the stablehand and helped Cundariel off of Halbarad. The Elf gasped, leaning on his shoulder. He could tell she had been seriously affected by... what had attacked them? He couldn't recall. He reached the guarded doors of the Great Hall and called out urgently to the soldiers: 'Tell the King Elessar his grandson Celebros has returned, and has with him an Elf with news that he should hear.' He leaned against the wall. One of the guards - Daimar? - gave him a puzzled look.  
  
With a surprised nod, the other guard flung open the doors and sprinted to the King Elessar. Through the open doors Celebros saw him look out and notice Celebros and Cundariel in surprise. The soldier was already telling him what Celebros had instructed.  
  
Celebros watched the King's eyes widen slowly; he nodded and stood up, almost knocking over his chair. He walked out of the Hall in great strides to his grandson, staring gravely at him and the Elf.  
  
'Celebros,' he said after a moment. 'Celebros, what happened?'  
  
'We were attacked.' Celebros's voice was strained.  
  
King Elessar shook his head, then looked up at the guards and said briskly, 'We must get them to the House of Healing. You help the Elf, please, Hordal, Daimar - I'll help Celebros. Hurry!'  
  
Celebros felt Cundariel's weight leave his shoulder. 'I'm all right,' he said, his voice fading. He swayed and the King caught him.  
  
'No,' he said firmly. 'You're hurt. You look exhausted, boy - How long have you been riding? Was there anything chasing you?' His grandfather frowned worridly. 'Your arm...'  
  
'Been riding since seven,' he muttered. 'But we were attacked...'  
  
His grandfather shook his head. 'By who? Which direction? How many? Celebros!' It would be better to fall asleep. Sleep was a good thing. Wait. A question. Why can't I sleep?  
  
'From the Grey Wood, maybe - maybe -' He shook his head.  
  
'The boy's in a bad way,' he heard the King's voice say as if through a mist.  
  
'What's wrong with him?' he heard another familiar voice say. 'How did he get this way?'  
  
'I don't know. Athelas! Hurry!'  
  
'Yes, of course -'  
  
Who was it?  
  
'Yes, my Lord, here -'  
  
Celebros felt a hand on his forehead, then a fragrant smell entered his nose. Athelas.  
  
'What of the attackers? Have they been found?'  
  
'No, sir. None.'  
  
'Where did Celebros come from?'  
  
'The Grey Wood, I should guess.'  
  
Celebros opened his eyes and winced. The faces swiveled towards him. King Elessar, and - someone else. Do I know him? Do I?  
  
'Celebros. What happened? Can you remember?'  
  
Celebros took a deep breath. 'No. Why? What's wrong?'  
  
King Elessar gave the other man a strange look. 'Your friend has taken a bad blow to her arm, but we are not sure if the blade was poisoned. But you are in almost as bad condition as she is, and we didn't find a wound. Your arm, however...it pains you, does it not?' Celebros didn't answer.  
  
The King looked cooly at the man. 'You will please leave.'  
  
'Yes, King Elessar,' the man said. The doors shut quietly after him.  
  
'Where is Cundariel?' He could not help himself.  
  
His grandfather smiled. 'Asleep in the next chamber.' His face grew suddenly grave. 'She has been injured, and there are several old wounds, but not enough to warrent the condition she is in. I am quite anxious to find out what news she has.'  
  
Celebros nodded. The King looked suddenly to the door.  
  
'I will come to talk to you again later,' he said quickly, and strode out of the room, leaving Celebros to wonder.  
  
+++++  
  
The King Elessar strode through the hall briskly, his cloak whipping behind him in the blasting wind through open windows. His head was pounding with furious questions. Questions that needed answers soon, before this became more complicated.  
  
His head a swirling mass of uncertainties, he found himself standing in front of the door to his study. He flung open the door and immediately pulled out several scrolls of papers. Setting them carefully on the carven oak table in front of his chair, he sat down.  
  
'Year of thirty-four-twenty-nine of the Second Age, the account of the Istari.'  
  
His mouth twisted with memory, the King skimmed that page.  
  
And then next one. And the next. And the next.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros awoke suddenly, though he did not know why. It was dark; he must have fallen asleep again. What time was it?  
  
A movement in the corner startled him, and then he saw the eyes looking at him, seeming to consider him. They gleamed oddly. Who had snuck into his room?  
  
An outline appeared as the figure drew nearer. Celebros did not speak. The the face came into clearer view, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It was the King.  
  
But it didn't look like the King. His hair was rough and untended, there was a green cloak wrapped about him, and he was not wearing his circlet. His brooch, too, was not in its usual place; instead a simple silver clasp fastened his cloak. Indeed, he looked more like a weather-worn traveler, a Ranger as he had been, than a king.  
  
Celebros opened his mouth, but King Elessar put a finger to his lips. His face was like a mask of carved wood. Dim light made harsh shadows on his jawbone and shifted as he moved. 'Hush,' he said hoarsly. 'Your friend will be fine: I have found the answer to my riddle. I must leave for a while, for I have learned much from her. I have left orders with the Guard, but none save the your friend Cundariel, Lady Evenstar, my son Eldarion, and you know of my plans. I have but one order for you. I would have woken you, but I have been told you need sleep. You should not have driven yourself so hard yesterday, but I suppose perhaps it was necessary. Something happened that neither of you remember, something evil, before you reached the City, and it was directed at you. However, I have one thing to tell you before I leave: neither you nor Cundariel can leave the city. Cundariel can tell you what I told her.  
  
'I shall be back in around a few weeks. I will expect to see you and the Elf then. Farewell for now, my boy!'  
  
With a swish of his cloak and a swift smile, he was gone once more.  
  
Celebros sat in the darkness for a moment, then blinked and pushed himself up and out of the bed. He pulled on his black riding boots and the gray hooded cloak that was on a small table beside the door. Then he opened the door and stepped uncertainly into the hall. His feet felt numb, and he swayed slightly, but stayed on his feet.  
  
Servants rushed passed, paying no attention to him. He was, after all, not old enough to be of much significance, and was not very well known. A few looked at him in passing, muttering about how children were let wander too much these days, rather to Celebros's indignation: he was, after all, sixteen summers old, and after the age of twelve boys were allowed to become apprentices and at the age of sixteen could begin training to become a guard of the City.  
  
However, this was soon forgotten. He began to walk in the direction of his mother's house: his father was on duty, and he hadn't seen her for weeks even before he left hunting. After the age of twelve, he'd been given his own room. He suspected Eldarion had had something to do with that, and made a mental note to thank him sometime for it. Since then, he had rarely come in contact with either parent. Neither of them made any effort whatsoever to seek him out, and he returned the favor. He knew he was something of a disappointment to his father, who had wanted an exact copy of himself. He didn't even mildly resemble his father, who was short and sturdy. He always respected Celebros' individuality, but didn't spend time with him much at all. His mother had wanted a daughter, and when he was young, she had always worried about him. Once, Celebros remembered, he had tried to ride a horse and gotten a bloody nose for his efforts. Until he got his own apartment his mother hadn't let him anywhere near the stables. Celebros would talk to his father if he saw him on guard, or if he saw his mother in the Outer City. By the time he was halfway to her house, however, he was having second thoughts. Perhaps he should see if Eldarion was about. Although he was almost thirty years Celebros's elder, Eldarion had always showed more respect to Celebros than his mother's two younger sisters. However, Eldarion was not the kind of person Celebros wanted to talk to right now. Maybe he could talk to Cundariel. King Elessar had said she was recovering, and that he was in worse condition than she was.  
  
At the thought of his condition, he realized that he still had not eaten since he had reached the City. He headed for his own rooms, which were near those of Eldarion, should he decide he wanted to talk.  
  
When he reached his room, he found that a servant had been in and left a meal. No doubt the King Elessar had asked it done. His grandfather had strange ways of knowing what people would do or say or think. He walked slowly into the silent second room, planning to sit in his chair by the fire and think, and perhaps talk to Cundariel or Eldarion in the morning. But someone was already sitting in the chair. It was Eldarion, and his dark eyes looked curiously into Celebros's.  
  
'Good evening,' Eldarion said, his rich voice quiet and serious. 'Has my father left?'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said slowly.  
  
'Good,' he said with a smile. 'He was planning to go east tomorrow, you know, but your situation is apparently more urgent than that of South Ithilien's. He did not tell me what was going on there, only that he was leaving. Do you know why he is headed north?'  
  
'No,' Celebros said, slightly confused.  
  
'I know only that he is going to the north and attempting to meet someone there.' Now Celebros was completely bewildered and quite surprised. What could the King's business be that was so urgent that he would not even tell his son? Why would he have no escort?  
  
'I have been told that, although you do not yet know it, you have a task ahead of you, in several days when my father returns. I am to teach you some skills that may be useful, because none of the City will know of your errand.'  
  
Celebros nodded. He had an idea what the errand might be. Eldarion put his hand firmly on Celebros's shoulder and led him out of the room.  
  
In this part of the City Celebros was more well known, and of course nearly everyone knew Eldarion. Many people stopped what they were doing and stared at them openly. The people whispered to each other as they passed. At last Eldarion and Celebros reached a room which Celebros could not remember entering before. Eldarion smiled slightly at the look of awe on the boy's face when he opened the door. As soon as they were in, he shut the door.  
  
It was an armory; a huge room, and on the walls and ceilings were hung swords and lances, sheilds and helms, all of great craftsmanship. All the walls were of plain stone. On one wall, hundreds of intricately shaped swords were hung, some made of shining silver, some with jewelled hilts, some large and some small. In the center of the wall, there was a plain open circle where a single small dagger was hung. An Elven verse was written around it, but Celebros' attention was pulled away from it.  
  
On another wall was the helms and armor. There were so many different pieces, the breastplates and leather vambraces,[1] hauberks, gauntlets, visors, sabatons[2], tassets[3], and many other types. Never had Celebros seen so many kinds in one place before.  
  
On yet another wall were the lances and horse-armor. They were plainer, although Celebros couldn't help but imagine Halbarad wearing some of these pieces.  
  
'All right, my boy, we'll practice some sword work today. Choose one of the practice blades.' Eldarion indicated the smaller, dull swords on the opposite side of the room. He himself strode across the room and chose a light one, hefted it, then held it up.  
  
Celebros chose a similar sword, a bit smaller. Eldarion grinned.  
  
'Let's go out into the courtyard,' he suggested.  
  
As they walked out, Celebros noticed the way Eldarion was walking was rather unusual: he was almost prancing. His head was up and looking straight ahead; there was a gleam in his eye. He glanced at Celebros and smiled.  
  
'Have you had any lessons yet?' Celebros nodded. 'Some,' he said quietly. 'I know basic forms. Nothing complicated. Mother wouldn't stand for it.'  
  
Eldarion laughed. 'I remember my first lessons with the sword. My father taught me when I was a year or two older than you. There was nothing to do then; no orcs, no enemies, and Galadon was not well known, so there was no need for me to learn quickly. He taught me how to fight, but also different moves and stances to use. I never got a blow in unless he let me.' Celebros nodded. The King was so learned in old lore and in the ways of the world that he was never predictable.  
  
They reached the dimly lit courtyard without another word spoken. Then Eldarion turned to Celebros.  
  
'You probably haven't learned much of the techniques I'm going to practice. If you have, stay with me. I'm going to start by showing you how to hold the sword in different styles. One handed, you use whichever one leaves you less open. Two handed, keep your dominant hand on the top. Like this, see?' Eldarion demonstrated and motioned that Celebros should copy. 'Yes, that's right. Try to block one handed first. Concentrate on the eyes. They can tell many things. Also, if you focus on your opponent's moves instead of your own, you can learn a lot.' Eldarion swung in towards Celebros's shoulder, and he brought up his blade. The impact of the swords nearly knocked him backwards. Another blow followed immediately, headed for his right side. Celebros swung his blade so that it was horizontal, completely to the right. Then Eldarion, in one swift movement, swung his sword in from the left, stopping it a few inches from Celebros's throat. It was only then that Celebros realized his mistake. He had swung the sword out so far that he had left his entire body unprotected. Eldarion looked into his eyes, then nodded.  
  
The older man suddenly smiled. 'Try now with both hands.'  
  
He thrust his blade swiftly to Celebros's left side. Celebros swung with all his might at the blade, knocking it aside. Eldarion used the momentum to move away, then came forwards, the blade aiming straight for Celebros's head. The younger boy almost cried out, but kept his wits and bent his knees slightly, bringing the sword up above his head, and at an slight angle to the left. Eldarion's did not slow down, and it hit Celebros's full on. It was lucky that the boy had bent his knees; had he been fully upright he would have been thrown backward onto the ground. As it was, the boy held his ground. The blades bounced off of each other. Celebros slowly sat down.  
  
'You all right?' Eldarion asked, his voice slightly worried, but sounding amazed, if rather winded.  
  
'Yes, I'll be fine,' Celebros said, his head spinning. He realized with some surprise that he was still holding his sword. He stood up.  
  
'That was good.' Eldarion still sounded slightly stunned: his blade had bounced back and the flat of it had hit him on the side of the head. 'That was a sturdy block there; good work.'  
  
'Thanks.'  
  
'All right, now how about you try to get me now.'  
  
'Fine.' Wavering for a moment, Celebros stood still, then began to fence. Right, right, left, right, he lost track of how many times he aimed and was blocked. Finally, he tried the strategy Eldarion had used on him: he aimed first for the right, then for the left, trying to see how it would work. Eldarion did move his body to block, but when he tried to stop the second one, Celebros's blade slipped down and hit his hand.  
  
'Ah!' Eldarion yelped, moving backward. 'Where did that come from?'  
  
'Sorry,' Celebros said. 'Little too vigorous, I guess...'  
  
'No, no - it's all right. I was just surprised. That was neat work too. I think I'll start attacking you again, if you don't mind.'  
  
'Go ahead.'  
  
'But by the way, you shouldn't ever use an opponent's technique on him. He always has a counter to it.'  
  
Eldarion parried and was blocked, over and over again. Finally, panting, he backed out. 'That's enough of that,' he said. 'Celebros?'  
  
Celebros sat down again. His sword fell from his hand. As though through a mist, he saw Eldarion looking at him, asking him if he was all right. He couldn't answer. He heard Eldarion mutter an oath. His head was spinning. He felt himself being lifted up, and then everything went black.  
  
+++++  
  
As soon as Eldarion stopped, he saw Celebros sink to the ground. His sword had fallen from his hands. 'Celebros?' he asked. 'Are you all right? Come on, Celebros.' The boy did not answer. He looked hazily up at Eldarion. Eldarion swore loudly and hurried over to the boy, picking him up. Even as he did so, Celebros blacked out.  
  
Hurrying along towards Celebros's rooms, Eldarion was muttering to himself angrily. The halls and streets were now deserted.  
  
'I shouldn't have pushed him,' he said furiously out loud to no one. 'I should have stopped after the blow toward the head. He was worn out, I should have waited till morning. He's still weak, he's not well. If I was tired...why didn't he back out first?'  
  
He reached the door of the boy's rooms and set him down on the floor to open the door. When he set him down, Celebros nearly fell over. Eldarion picked him up again and moved quickly into his bedroom. He lay Celebros gently on the bed and covered him warmly. Then he sat down in the chair next to the bed and waited.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros woke up with a start and found the sun streaming in through his window. He remembered what had happened: he must have blacked out after practicing the sword with Eldarion. He turned his head.  
  
Eldarion was sitting in the chair beside his bed, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but fast asleep. He must brought him here, then fallen asleep waiting for him to wake up, or just sitting there to make sure he was all right. Celebros smiled. He pushed himself out of his bed; to his relief his legs barely wavered at all. His cloak and boots were, once again, next to his bed. Celebros walked over to the window and looked out.  
  
The Outer City was laid out like a map before him, for his room was high above the City. There were people in the streets. The sun was shining bright and cheerily. There was a slight breeze.  
  
He pulled on his cloak. There was a small brooch beside it, silver with a small red gem in the center. He fastened it. He put the boots on, too. Standing up, he stomped them twice to settle his feet into them. The sound awoke Eldarion. He opened his eyes quickly and sprang to his feet, looking around wildly, his hand still on the hilt of his sword. He saw where he was, and relaxed.  
  
'What's the time?' he asked Celebros.  
  
'Around nine, probably,' he replied, trying not to laugh. Eldarion was stiffly looking around.  
  
'Are you hungry? I have some food in my rooms.' Eldarion looked sharply at Celebros, as if daring him to say he wasn't.  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said, entirely honestly. He did not want to tell Eldarion that he had actually eaten nothing in the past thirty-six hours.  
  
'Very well. Follow me.' Eldarion walked out of the room briskly.  
  
They did not have to go far. Celebros's room was three doors away from Eldarion's. It had been a while since he had been to see Eldarion in his apartments, though.  
  
'Come in,' Eldarion said courteously.  
  
His rooms were more elaborate and better furnished than Celebros's, he being the heir to the throne. The mats were of soft material, the window had a better view, and the drapes and bedding were velvet. The space was bigger, too. The furniture was made of the finest wood, and he had more of it. Celebros didn't envy him. Eldarion had spent almost all his time as a child learning about the city and the duties of royalty. Quite boring, really, as Celebros remembered from the bit of training he had got.  
  
Awkwardly he sat down at the table while Eldarion went into the other room and got some food. It felt strange here. The window-curtains were open, and a light breeze ruffled some papers on the tables that were nearer to the window.  
  
They ate with little ceremony, Celebros and Eldarion both trying to hide how hungry they were. After the meal, they sat by the window looking out at the City, and talked of what had happened to Celebros while he was in the Grey Wood, and what had happened in the city meanwhile.  
  
Celebros had been gone for eighteen days. He had set out on the twenty- fifth of February, reached the Grey Wood the next day without any problems, and looked for Orcs. The third day in the wood he found an orc-knife, which he had not touched. The seventh day in the wood he had found two orcs, and had killed them both. He had found tracks the eleventh day in the wood, and then had wandered around for another few days before finding Cundariel.  
  
Eldarion told him then what had been going on in his absence. 'On the twenty-sixth,' he said, 'Father was very withdrawn. He wouldn't talk to anyone, not even Mother. He went up into his chambers and stayed there for most of the day. I read some of his account of the War, and I think I know why. He did tell you of the Breaking of the Fellowship and Boromir's death, didn't he?'  
  
Celebros nodded, uncertain what this had to do with anything. 'I know about as much about his journies as you do, Eldarion. You know how much he likes to tell stories.'  
  
'The Breaking happened on Febuary the twenty-sixth.'  
  
Celebros's eyebrows raised and his eyes widened.  
  
'He was fairly subdued the entire time you were gone. Brooding, thinking. I think he blames himself, in part, for Boromir's death. From what Faramir told me, he was a good man. But he couldn't resist the lure of the Ring. Father did a good deal of reading in the days before you came back. I tried to speak to him, and he told me that he felt that something was drawing near. I asked him what he meant, and he didn't seem to remember saying it.  
  
'I think something is going on, Celebros, that neither of us can fathom. I wouldn't tell you this, but I have to tell someone. If something happens I need help.'  
  
Celebros's eyes were wide. 'What?' he whispered.  
  
'I -' Eldarion's eyes suddenly swiveled to the door. As he did so, a knock came on the door.  
  
Eldarion, looking exasperated, stood up and walked to the door. He opened it, and before the knocker spoke, Celebros saw his shoulders stiffen. It was a runner, designated to tell important people things in dire times.  
  
Celebros saw the man look past Eldarion and sigh. 'Ah, good day, Eldarion. And I see you are here too, Master Celebros. That is well. I have urgent news. May I come in? It is best if as few as possible hear...'  
  
Eldarion moved aside and motioned the man in, then shut the door quickly.  
  
'My news regards the King Elessar. You know that he set out in great haste last night. Not long ago, the King's horse came back to the City gates in a panic, bearing all the King's goods but not the King. It is not believed that they got more than a few hours beyond the edge of Pelennor Fields.  
  
'Good day, again. I know nothing else and vow to tell no one what I have been told.' The man finished the formalities and strode past Eldarion, who quickly opened the door for him and watched him go out it. He shut the door more slowly, and did not take his hand from the handle. Celebros saw his eyes, staring at the floor, his head bowed. He walked over to Eldarion and put his hand on his still outstretched arm. Eldarion looked down at him with wide eyes, tenser and more worried than Celebros had ever seen him.  
  
'What do we do?' he asked quietly.  
  
+++++  
  
Cundariel awoke, immediately alert. It was dark already. She was aware that someone else was watching her. Slowly, she sat up and looked into the corner.  
  
A Man with dark eyes sat there, regarding her cooly. She saw that he was wearing a dark, weather-stained green cloak with a plain silver clasp. His hair was dark brown and untidy. 'How are you?' he asked with a hint of a smile. 'My grandson tells me you've had a rather rough time.'  
  
'You're the King Elessar?' she asked, and though it was posed as a question it was more of a statement. The man nodded.  
  
'Where is Celebros?' The question was simple, but she had not intended to say it.  
  
'In the next room, asleep. Do you remember what happened this morning, when you were riding?'  
  
'There was a sound,' she said slowly, 'and Celebros turned around and yelled something, but then - I do not remember. I sensed something, something old but familiar, but then I cannot remember what happened.'  
  
'They were after Celebros,' he said calmly, 'and something happened. He is unmarked, but entered the City in a state of panic and confusion. He was exhausted.'  
  
Cundariel remained silent.  
  
'Celebros tells me you know Elladan and Elrohir.'  
  
She nodded, still silent.  
  
'Tell me of the North. I must travel. I have an urgent errand.'  
  
Slowly, she began to speak, her voice unsteady.  
  
And things began to make sense.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion looked to the left, then the right. 'Now,' he whispered. He and Celebros darted into the stable.  
  
'Why can't anyone see us?' Eldarion asked quietly.  
  
'The King Elessar left orders with the guard and others that I was not to leave the City.'  
  
'Oh. I wish...' Eldarion began worridly, and shook his head. 'I should not disobey Father's orders.'  
  
'I think maybe he'll understand,' Celebros snorted softly. 'Here he is.'  
  
'This is a good horse,' Eldarion said, slightly louder than he should have. 'My father gave this to you? What is his name?'  
  
'His name is Halbarad. The King named it.'  
  
Eldarion laughed halfheartedly. Seeing Celebros's blank look, he explained. 'Halbarad is a great Man, a Ranger. He went with Father on the Paths of the Dead, with Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas and Gimli, and the rest.'  
  
Celebros nodded thoughtfully, but his mind was on other things.  
  
'What do you think happened, Eldarion?' Eldarion's face grew grave.  
  
'The best I can hope for is that Father was resting when he was approached with orcs from the Grey Wood, and escaped, but his horse fled.'  
  
'I hope so. Or that the horse was merely frightened by something else.'  
  
'That is doubtful,' Eldarion said, his eyes unhopeful. 'I fear the worst. I fear he has been taken.'  
  
'Oh, Eldarion, don't give up hope,' Celebros whispered. 'Let's go soon! Have you a horse in these stables?'  
  
'I have two. Carsel, the grey over yonder, and Aredhil, the bay there. Which looks swifter to you? I am tired and worried, so I will leave the choice to you.'  
  
'Aredhil.'  
  
'Very well. Let us go. Cover your face.'  
  
'Where will we stop in the City?'  
  
'The armory I showed you last night, and the pantry. Then the empty barracks for blankets. Can you think of anywhere else?'  
  
+++++  
  
The armory was dark and silent. Celebros looked around, squinting, as Eldarion chose a blade. The young Man was more careful in his choice than Eldarion. He stared around, and again the dagger hanging in the center of the wall caught his eye. Eldarion hefted a sword and sheathed it, buckling it to his belt.  
  
Celebros stood still a moment, staring at it. For something so ordinary, it seemed to have some importance. Perhaps it was enchanted. He tried to take a step forward to examine the carvings circling it, but instead found himself staring at it. A pattern of vines twisted its way about the hilt. The blade glimmered, reflecting light in Celebros' eye.  
  
Finally he broke free of his invisible bindings, the mental block that had held him in place, and took a slow, stiff step toward the dagger, and then another. He couldn't read the carvings. It was too dark. It didn't matter. He had to hold it. He had to...touch it. To know that it was real. He reached up, up forever, slowly, staring with glittering eyes at his dagger. His dagger. It had to be his now.  
  
'Celebros!' Eldarion shouted suddenly. 'Don't touch it!'  
  
He broke out of his trance and staggered backwards. 'What?'  
  
'Don't touch that dagger. It's enchanted. Don't touch it, don't even look at it. Couldn't you tell something was wrong with it?'  
  
Celebros shook his head. 'I just felt like I had to have it. I...I'm not sure. That was...strange...'  
  
'I've never heard of it actually Calling to someone,' Eldarion said. The way he said Calling made Celebros sure it was a capital C. 'That's strange. I'll have to talk about that with my father. I don't like that.'  
  
Celebros squinted again at the writing around the blade.  
  
'Though small and plain we know it seems  
  
This blade did bring him to his dreams:  
  
The hopes and loves of his own heart  
  
Unlocked they tore his soul apart  
  
If any should pass by this knife  
  
Be warned: its price may be your life.'  
  
+++++  
  
Very strange they looked, two tall hooded figures leading horses through the streets of the City with bundles. Both wore fine riding-boots of the best leather, and with steel tips. Yet their garment was unkempt and they hurried greatly. Also, to the surprise of many, their horses wore no saddles. Again, people stopped to point and stare. At last, near nightfall, they set out.  
  
But in their hurry, they did not notice the other figure that rode behind. The figure's horse was a dark brown, and rode without a saddle, in Elven fashion.  
  
+++++  
  
The King Elessar rode out of the City in silence. His horse was lightfooted, but nervous. As soon as he passed the limits of the City, he cast off his hood. His hair shone in the moonlight. His dark eyes glimmered. No one had questioned his identity. All was as he had hoped, although he would have to have strict words with the guards when he returned. Security was lax. Galadon himself could have walked in and out, hooded and unnoticed.  
  
He slowed his horse, checked it, and looked back at the City for a moment. He would have be careful. He was forgetting what it was like to ride alone. It had been long years since he had done so. He had an escort at most times, and seldom rode without Eldarion. Once he had taken Celebros to the edge of Pelennor Fields.  
  
He rode on at a good pace. There was a long way yet to go, and he would not want to tire his horse. There was no need of great haste, as of yet. He would rest when he reached the edge of the Fields. Then he would head on again.  
  
He reached the edge of the Fields in good time, and took a break as he had planned. The Moon was setting. There was nothing in sight.  
  
His horse pawed the ground uncertainly. It was more uneasy than it should be. Likely he was right in guessing that there were foul cratures in these parts still.  
  
There he sat for nearly an hour. A nighthawk screeched loudly. The horse was getting more and more uneasy. He looked over over the surrounding land. There. His eyes narrowed. Movement in the trees.  
  
A foul screeching filled the air from all directions. Orcs.  
  
His horse snorted loudly. A crouching figure approached it. He sprang at in, Anduril leapt to his hand, but too late. The horse bolted.  
  
The King bit back an oath. Why had he waited?  
  
Anduril gleamed a bitter white in the gloom around him.  
  
A stone came from behind and struck him sharply in the head. This time he did not bother to bite back the oath. He whirled around, Anduril before him gleaming with its unnatural brightness. The lines closed in, and Anduril began its haunting dance; the music being the eerie clash of blade against blade and the screams of the dying orcs.  
  
His blade swung around with the swiftness of a bolt of lightning, darting everywhere and finding orc-flesh all around him. The haunting tune filling the air became noisier as the dance of the white blade quickened.  
  
Blows came at him from every direction. There were many orcs, twenty at least, but not so many that he could not defeat them in due time. They were black and ugly, and good-sized, but their swordwork was quite poor.  
  
It wasn't complicated enough, he thought as Anduril found another orc's neck. Where did these come from? Surely there were more than this? Not that he wanted more, of course, but any force would have more than this.  
  
Unless they were renegades.  
  
Unless they were just the beginning.  
  
Unless most of them had been killed by a skilled hunter.  
  
Unless this was the group Celebros had been after.  
  
Unless they had been given powers by Galadon, as the rumors said.  
  
Unless this was what had tried to kill his grandson.  
  
An orc darted toward his right side with a shining steel dagger gripped tight in his hand. The knife came spinning towards him. With little effort, the King swung Anduril at it. It hit it aside, but the momentum carried him through. The sword stuck the ground and buried its tip deep. Wrenching it out, he wavered, off balance, and the remaining orcs flew at him from the left. He swung himself back, beheading the first creature, but as he did so he knew he had been too late. A thin pain pierced his leg. The remaining beasts hooted in delight. The pale blade had punctured his calf. With a roar, he leapt forward, pain nearly overtaking him. The second orc was impaled on his blade, and seeing his fury the rest fled.  
  
The world began to fade. He had to stop the blood flow. He had to bandage the wound. He had cloth on his horse -  
  
On the horse. He let out his breath in a hiss. The horse was gone. He felt himself slipping under. No, no, his mind thought, but a stronger voice was snarling in his ear yes. He took a breath, and another, knowing each breath meant one more waking moment. He focused on the pain.  
  
A sharp sensation shot through him, and he winced. Now he was awake.  
  
Looking down at his cloak, which was frayed at the edges from the previous years of wear, he realized that it was a good thing he had decided to wear less fine clothing.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion turned back to Celebros. The horse was lagging slightly, and the boy was blinking off sleep. 'Where are we?' he asked Eldarion, trying to hide a yawn.  
  
'We may reach the edge of Pelennor Fields by morning, if we keep riding, but I think we will have to stop. Are you tired?'  
  
Looking startled, Celebros slowly brought his head up to meet Eldarion's gaze. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'Let's hurry up. By morning all trace could be gone.'  
  
Eldarion looked at him, his eyes sparkling. Celebros reminded him of himself in his youth sometimes.  
  
Celebros tapped his horse's head. 'Noro lim,' he said softly. Halbarad began to ride, rather faster than he had intended.  
  
Eldarion reined his horse up beside Celebros'. He touched Halbarad's neck and the horse stopped. Celebros looked at him once more. Eldarion's face was both confused and astonished.  
  
'What did you say to the horse?' he demanded, startled.  
  
'Noro lim,' Celebros said slowly. 'I said -'  
  
'Where did you learn that?'  
  
'I heard Cundariel say it.'  
  
'The Elf...' Eldarion was no longer addressing him, he realized. 'Elves have some power over horses, and I knew it was with words, but... I've never heard of a Man having that kind of control. I suppose because we're part Elven, because of Mother...'  
  
'Hadn't we better get going?' Celebros asked anxiously.  
  
'Yes. Yes, of course.'  
  
Eldarion rode on swiftly, but for a moment Celebros stood still. He looked at Halbarad uncertainly.  
  
'Noro lim,' he whispered.  
  
Halbarad sprang forward, a whir of silver. They were on the hunt.  
  
+++++  
  
The King shifted slightly, his back against the rough tree bark. He was used to the velvet seats of the City, but all he could do was wait. His leg was badly injured; he could not walk. If his horse made it back to the City, someone would come.  
  
But no one knew where exactly he was.  
  
This, he realized, had been a mistake. He could have told Eldarion. His son would say nothing.  
  
If his horse did not make it back to the City, then they would send out teams. But it would be a while. And all his food had been on it.  
  
Suddenly, there was a rustling noise in the trees behind him. He twisted his head around and reached for Anduril. The bush on his left was moving, as if something large was behind it. A grunt issued from the bush, and a small orc stumbled out from behind it.  
  
Anduril was already out of his sheath, but the orc was out of his reach. The miserable creature looked at him questioningly.  
  
'Who you?' it said in slurred Numenorean.  
  
He was so taken aback that for a moment he did not answer, just stared. 'What do you want?' he said softly, dangerously.  
  
'I want nothing. I Snaga. I been driven out. They say I bad. I killed others.'  
  
'You killed other orcs?' His grip on Anduril tightened. This orc was obviously more dangerous than he seemed.  
  
'I did,' Snaga said, looking, not ashamed, but almost proud, wilful. 'I didn't like them. They hurt Snaga, and he - he - I run away. The Big Ones, they hurt. I don't like them. They not nice. No one nice.'  
  
'I do not have any tolerance with orcs,' he said harshly. 'Go! My blade has bitten more orcs than yours.'  
  
'I no go. I tired, I hurt. You hurt too?'  
  
The King gritted his teeth. He hesitated slightly. 'Yes,' he said at last. 'I was attacked by orcs.'  
  
'What they look like? Big, black?'  
  
'The ones I killed are over there.' He pointed to the site of the bodies, about ten yards away.  
  
Snaga crept over to the bodies, and seeing the one who had stabbed Elessar, he recoiled fearfully. Turning around, he asked quietly, 'They all dead? Not asleep?'  
  
'All dead.'  
  
The small thing leapt up on his feet, shreiking wildly - in glee, he realized. The thing was happy.  
  
'Dead,' he announced, calming down and creeping back towards the King. He reminded King Elessar eerily of Gollum.  
  
'You knew them? Do you know the skill of the weapons they carried? The foul things stabbed me with it.'  
  
'Stab you?' The orc's huge eyes grew even larger, glinting yellow. 'Hurt you with knife? Where? Where they cut you?'  
  
'My leg.' The orc scrambled forward, but King Elessar held out Anduril. 'Don't come nearer,' he warned. 'How do I know you won't kill me? I've never met a trustworthy orc, nor one that doesn't try to trick and decieve Men.'  
  
Snaga thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Then his green eyes lit up and he held out something in his hand. It was part of an orc-scalp.  
  
'So how do I know you killed him? You could have scalped a dead one.'  
  
'Snaga show you. See knife marks? Here my knife. They same.'  
  
The King looked and saw that it was indeed true. The patterns on the scalp of the orc matched the knife blade. He gave in. He could not hold off this orc forever, but if Snaga's story was true, he would not want to kill the thing. It might have useful information. He sheathed Anduril and watched the creature warily.  
  
Snaga bent over his leg, careful not to touch it. 'Could Snaga see the wound?'  
  
'Why? It was that accursed orc's knife that cut it. The wound is not yet closed, and already I have lost too much blood. I do not wish to lose any more.'  
  
'Yes, Snaga sees why. Why you out alone? What your name?'  
  
The King considered this. 'For the present, call me Strider,' he said at last. 'It is a name I used to use. I was on my way from Minas Tirith to meet someone. My horse bolted when the orcs drew near.'  
  
'Will Men come looking?'  
  
'They may. If the horse returns to the City, I have friends that will come, yes.'  
  
'You walk?'  
  
'I can't. My leg is badly injured, and will not support my weight.'  
  
'What if I find horse? Some horses round here.'  
  
'Steal a horse? No.'  
  
'No steal. Wild horses. Men can tame horses.'  
  
'Some can.'  
  
'Can you?'  
  
He paused a moment. 'Yes. But will a horse follow you?'  
  
'I chase it.' The orc ran off, surprisingly fast and nimble.  
  
He leaned back against the tree, bewildered. Snaga was an orc. And he was, apparently, not evil. They were bred to be evil. But then, he remebered grimly, Elves were made to be good, and Galadon had gone bad.  
  
This reminded him of his mission. What were Elladan and Elrohir going to say when they came to the Woodland Realm, to Eryn Lasgalen, and found that he was not there? He would, of course, have to send word.  
  
He was beginning to wonder who he could send when a rumbling noise reached his ears. It was not very loud. Snaga must have found a horse.  
  
Indeed, even while he was thinking this, a beautiful brown stallion burst into sight, Snaga right behind it. The King held up his hand, and the horse and Snaga stopped. Snaga stepped forward (the horse stepped out of his way) and, with what might have been the shadow of a smile and was certainly utter satisfaction, said, 'Horse.'  
  
'Thank you. Can you help me? I need to get up, but I can't put any pressure on my leg.'  
  
The orc considered for a few seconds. 'Snaga help,' he said finally. 'How Snaga help you?'  
  
'Could you get the horse a little closer, and then help me stand?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
He touched the horse's flank, and it immediately moved towards the King. Then Snaga hesitantly walked forward and stood in front of him for a moment. Slowly, uncertainly, he put his hand forward.  
  
King Elessar took it without hesitation, pulling himself to his feet, and then, dignity lost, nearly fell to the ground again. Snaga snatched his hand. The orc's skin was wrinkled and grimy, but his grip was firm. He looked the King in the eyes as he pulled him to his feet once more. He swayed, his head spinning, and grabbed Snaga's forearm with an equally firm grip. Snaga winced and almost shrunk away, then caught himself.  
  
The King staggered over to the horse, swinging up his bad leg first. It hit the other side of the horse with a thud, and he winced, drawing in his breath sharply.  
  
'What will you do, Snaga?'  
  
Snaga looked puzzled. 'Snaga doesn't know,' he admitted, shaking his head.  
  
'Do you think the horse will hold you?'  
  
'Snaga doesn't know,' the orc repeated.  
  
'Try to get up behind me.'  
  
Snaga looked doubtful. 'Men no like orcs. Men will not let me into city, not unless King says so. King won't believe. Is King nice, Strider?'  
  
Elessar smiled. 'I think he is. He will let you in.'  
  
'What his name?'  
  
'King Elessar.'  
  
'What it mean?'  
  
'Elfstone.'  
  
'Elfstone. Nice name. I come.' Snaga looked uncertainly at the horse. 'How I get on? I no ride horse before.'  
  
'Take my arm and put your legs on either side.'  
  
Snaga clumsily did so. The horse shifted slightly, but did not do anything.  
  
The King leaned forward and whispered in the horse's large ear. It cantered forward, turned, and headed in the direction of Minas Tirith.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros looked behind him. The figure was nowhere in sight. But it had been there.  
  
Eldarion was asleep. They had had to a take rest, for their horses had been slowing down after three hours of riding. It was perhaps two in the morning. He was on watch. He had seen the figure twice now. He was beginning to wonder if he should tell Eldarion about it.  
  
He sat in thought for a moment, then turned around, toward Eldarion. He was the elder, he should decide what to do.  
  
A figure flitted across Celebros' line of vision, and he whipped about, fumbling for his sword. This felt unusual, for he was not used to being in this sort of situation and having a sword. He had used daggers and knives, and occasionally a bow, but only once had he used a sword, and then he had almost been defeated and had been forced to resort to his bow, for he had never been trained in sword-fighting well.  
  
As quickly as the figure appeared, it was gone. He had caught but a glimse of whoever it was, only enough to tell it was not an orc: it was too tall.  
  
Looking sharply around, he backed over to Eldarion. Celebros shook his shoulder slightly, and Eldarion blinked once. 'What is it? Is it my turn?'  
  
'Not yet,' whispered Celebros quickly. 'There's something out there: I've seen a figure three times. Maybe a large orc, but somehow I don't think so.'  
  
Eldarion hissed softly. 'Where?'  
  
'Last time I saw it, over there.' Celebros pointed in the direction he had seen the figure. His eyes alert, Eldarion crept away. He was swallowed up in the darkness.  
  
A moment later, he came back. 'You're right,' he said grimly. 'There's something there. I saw it. Not being too careful. I don't think it means harm.' Suddenly, he whipped around and grabbed at the darkness. He caught something, and whatever it was, it didn't struggle. He pulled it roughly into the dim moonlight. It was tall, and had on a dark grey cloak. Eldarion laughed and released the figure. Then the person pushed back his or her hood. Celebros sighed. It was Cundariel, and she was smiling wryly. She turned and whistled softly, and a brown horse came up behind her, nosing her ear. She whispered something to it, and it moved aside.  
  
'Hello,' she said indifferently, idly rubbing the horse's side. The horse backed away. She looked calmly at the two of them.  
  
'I never miss a hunt,' she said cooly. 'I can track and navigate, and read prints. In addition to that, I can speak seven languages.'  
  
Eldarion nodded, looking slightly surprised. 'Well,' he said, 'it looks as if there is hope, then.'  
  
'Indeed there is,' she said. 'I must go back to my camp and bring my things. It is ten minutes' ride away.'  
  
She leapt onto her horse and rode into the night. The sound of hooves slowly faded. Eldarion sighed and shut his eyes. 'I'll go on watch, my boy. Do you have a guess to the time?'  
  
'I would say it is near to half past two.'  
  
'Good. I'll watch while you get some sleep. I'll wake you in three hours; we will ride with the dawn. It is urgent we find Father soon. I still fear for his safety.'  
  
Celebros lay down on the ground, using the blanket as a pillow, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.  
  
+++++  
  
The horse Snaga had found was a good one, in good shape and well fed. It rode smoothly, but the orc was still quite uneasy. He held onto the King's back, and every time there was a bump, he jumped. King Elessar caught some of his muttering.  
  
'Snaga will be good. Snaga stay on horse. Strider nice. He no let Snaga fall. Horse good. Man tamed horse. Horse no buck Snaga. Snaga, Snaga doesn't like horse, but Snaga must help Strider. Strider say King nice. Maybe Snaga get to go in City. Snaga will stay on horse.'  
  
He was less at ease as Gimli had been the first time he had ridden a horse, with Legolas. And that, he reminded himself, was saying something.  
  
Legolas. Perhaps he could find Legolas and ask him to go to Eryn Lasgalen. He knew Elladan and Elrohir, and the Woodland Realm, was, of course, his home, and that of Thranduil his father. And he could trust him. He wasn't doing anything else, as far as the King knew. It might take a few days to find him; he was off in Rohan, or Lothlorien, or somewhere with Gimli again. Gimli would undoubtedly go with him, although he might not be pleased, nor Elladan and Elrohir.  
  
A bump brought his attention back to traveling. Snaga had fallen silent. They had now been riding for perhaps an hour.  
  
The horse bumped again, nearly bucking them both off. Snaga let out a squeal. The orc reminded him too much of Gollum.  
  
'Do you want to stop for a while, Snaga?' he asked over the rush of hooves. The horse was well-rested, too.  
  
'Snaga would like that,' the orc replied with absolutely no hesitation.  
  
The King pulled back on the reins, and the horse reared slightly, knocking Snaga off. He landed indignantly on his rear. King Elessar remained unmoved, and the horse calmed and came back down. He tried to gracefully dismount, forgetting his injured leg. His leg buckled, and he stumbled. Snaga leapt forward to help him, but he steadied himself and sat down.  
  
'Is Strider noble? Is he of a house?'  
  
'Telcontar,' he replied offhandedly.  
  
'What that?'  
  
'Strider,' he replied without hesitation, then froze. Even Snaga would know that usually only Kings had houses named after them.  
  
Snaga's eyes widened. 'You have house named after you? You important Man?'  
  
'Yes,' he said resignedly.  
  
'Strider is strange name,' the orc said, now suspicious. 'It not Elven.'  
  
'No. It is not my real name, but a hunter's name. I was a Ranger of the North.'  
  
Snaga looked askance at him. 'Rangers not nice. Not to Snaga.'  
  
'Rangers generally don't like orcs. However, I have made an exception, I believe. You are not like an orc, Snaga. Orcs are not kind. They are cruel, merciless, and unfeeling. But you are not.'  
  
'Snaga wish he wasn't orc. Snaga hates orcs.'  
  
The King smiled at him. 'That is good,' he said softly. 'If you trusted orcs, or had no dislike for them, then I would dislike you. Even were you a Man, I might not trust you, for Men can be decieving. But most orcs haven't the intelligence to trick a Man. I have seen it in your eyes: you speak the truth. Men can hide their emotions. It is much harder for an orc to do so, and his eyes always give him away. You are lucky to be an orc. No, I do not believe lucky is the word. It has not turned out any the worse for you being what you are.'  
  
Snaga closed his eyes and nodded. 'You are right,' he said, for the first time his Numenorean was clear and strong. 'Let us go on. I wish to see your city.'  
  
And so they remounted and rode slowly on.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros awoke and saw Eldarion's face swimming before him. His eyes cleared, and he sat up. 'Time to go?' he asked. The horses stood ready, he saw, and Cundariel was packing hers. She did not have much. A sack or two, that was all. Celebros stood and picked up his blanket and small bag. Everything else was already loaded on the horses.  
  
Eldarion mounted swiftly and sat pensieve. He waited impatietly for Celebros to clamber on, then the three rode off into the thick fog that covered the morning's sound.  
  
By seven, they had reached the edge of Pelennor Field and the dawn's first light was breaking the horizon. There were still scattered patches of fog.  
  
They found a set of horse-prints in the dirt, and many orc-feet had trampled over it. Eldarion was biting his lip so hard Celebros thought he saw a small trickle of blood running from his lower lip. He had never seen him so nervous, so anxious.  
  
They stopped for a break to eat, then rode on once again, three horsed figures in the gloom of the morning. The sun shone bright by the time they found anything more.  
  
+++++  
  
The King looked around warily. The fog was fading: it was nearly seven. 'All right,' he muttered. They had stopped again, giving Snaga time to rest. The orc had fallen asleep while riding and almost fallen off the horse. King Elessar was not sure if orcs normally slept or if they just continued day and night, but he did know that Snaga was unusual in more than one way.  
  
They were in a cave about ten minutes' ride from Pelennor Field. Snaga was still asleep, and he had decided to stay here for a while. It was probably the last chance they would have for a rest until they reached the City.  
  
He sat on the ground in front of the small cave, in the sunlight. He tore several more strips of the cloak off, from the bottom, and quickly took off the old bandage. The wound was closing, but ugly. The area around it was swollen and reddened, and it was deep. He wound the new bandage around it and wrapped the frayed, too-short cloak around his shoulders. The gash was quite painful.  
  
He had not been able to find any kingsfoil, unable to walk well enough, and Snaga did not know what it was. He had also not been able to cleanse it, for his water was gone. His throat was dry, and he was quite hungry.  
  
Also he was tired. He sat and thought wistfully of the soft beds in the City.  
  
When Snaga awoke twenty minutes later, he found 'Strider' fast asleep against the rock. Knowing the Man was hungry, the orc crept away to look for Man-food.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion shook his head at the discoveries, and Celebros saw that his whole body was tense. The King's son turned around, and Celebros saw he had his head in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking slightly.  
  
Celebros turned around and looked back at the signs.  
  
A great many orc-bodies lay strewn about the small clearing. There were also many orc prints. There were the footprints of two horses: the King's and one which was wild.  
  
A bloodstained orc knife lay on the ground next to a very fierce, very dead orc. There were orc-prints running away, a sword-mark in the ground, and then staggering steps of one in pain to the trunk of a tree. A Man's blood was shed around these tracks. The Man had then sat down heavily. Then an orc had approached, one small orc and a horse.  
  
The Man had been lifted to his feet and put onto the horse. The orc had climbed up also, and the horse had rode off.  
  
Celebros turned back to look at Eldarion. His sword was out, he was holding it tight in his gloved hand. Eldarion glanced up at the two of them, sheathed his sword, and growled, 'Let's continue.'  
  
He jumped onto his horse and turned it riding off.  
  
Cundariel glanced at Celebros, who had a wry smile on. The left side of his mouth was almost in a smirk. It looked odd.  
  
They leapt on their horses and followed.  
  
+++++  
  
It was nearly eleven when they reached a place where it appeared the horse had stopped and the orc and the Man had gotten off. Neither sat down, though the Man stumbled dismounting.  
  
Eldarion looking at the place where his father had stumbled winced. The King was a strong man, it must be an ugly injury indeed to make him stagger so much.  
  
They rode on, and before long came to a small cave.  
  
The King Elessar was slumped against the wall, and sitting in front of him was a very small orc.  
  
It looked up as they rode hurridly towards it. To their surprise, it stood, bowed, and asked in halting Numenorean, 'You friends of Strider?'  
  
'Move aside,' snarled Eldarion.  
  
'Strider my friend, but he stabbed. Orcs hurt him. He asleep. He tired, hungry. You help him? You of his city?'  
  
Eldarion's sword was before him, and Celebros could see he was ready to spring.  
  
'My father,' Eldarion growled, 'would never befriend a dirty vermin like you! Do not try to stall us, orc.'  
  
'My name Snaga,' the orc said quietly.  
  
'Step aside!'  
  
Slowly, Snaga stepped out of the way. Dropping his sword, Eldarion ran forward to the King.  
  
'Father!'  
  
Slowly, the King Elessar's eyes opened.  
  
'Eldarion! I was wondering whether - did the horse return? How long have I been asleep, Snaga?' he called over Eldarion's shoulder at the orc. Eldarion, looking staggered, stared at the orc, then his father. The orc had a small grin on his face.  
  
'Three hours, Strider.'  
  
The King tried to stand, stumbled, and fell on his knees with a weak groan. Eldarion caught him and set him back against the wall. 'Celebros, do you still have the athelas?' he asked quickly. Celebros took out two wrapped leaves. Eldarion took them and, looking at Snaga, began to unwrap the wound. He hissed when he saw it. He applied the athelas, and a spasm of pain flashed across the King's face.  
  
'King Elessar, are you all right?' Cundariel asked. Snaga gave a sudden violent start and stared at 'Strider', his mouth hanging open.  
  
The small creature came over to Celebros, who was watching Eldarion tend the wound. He pulled on the boy's sleeve. Celebros turned around, eyeing the orc. 'Strider King?' he whispered his eyes huge.  
  
'Of course. Are you really his friend? I have never met a polite orc, or one concerned in doing anything with Men but torturing and killing them.'  
  
'Snaga hates orcs.' It really looked like it too, with the word 'orc' his nose had wrinkled in distaste. 'I friend. I nice. But he no tell me he king. King of City? Of Gondor? King of what?'  
  
'He is the King of the Reunited Kingdom, Lord of the Lands of the West, the Heir of Isildur Elendil's son. You know who Isildur was?'  
  
'He took ring. He fool. Ring supposed to be destroyed. My old master, he say ring would make orcs powerful. I no want orcs be powerful. I hate orcs.'  
  
'The Ring was destroyed,' Celebros said, puzzled. Surely an orc would know that?  
  
But as he said it, he could see it was news to the orc. Snaga's eyes were huge, and he gazed toward the East.  
  
'When ring destroyed? Great Eye gone?'  
  
'Gone forever. A halfling bore it, and nearly fifty years ago he took it, endangering his own life by agreeing to do so, and destroyed it.'  
  
'Fifty year?' Snaga breathed. 'It gone? What halfling? What he name?'  
  
'A Halfling is a small creature, lives in a land called the Shire in the North and West. Furry feet, about four feet tall. Four Halflings, two Men - including the King Elessar, my grandfather, and the previous Steward of Gondor's son Boromir, who died along the quest - an Elf of Mirkwood, a Dwarf, and one of the Istari - they went to Rivendell, the House of Lord Elrond, and were chosen to go on a quest to destroy the Ring, which one of the Halflings, Frodo Baggins, had inherited. Frodo and his servant Samwise Gamgee split from the Company and went to Mordor and destroyed the Ring. You mean you were never told? The orcs were never informed?'  
  
Snaga shook his head vigorously, his eyes awed. 'No one ever told Snaga - they never said to me about it.' Celebros looked up. The King Elessar was still sitting up against the wall, and Eldarion was doing something with his leg. The King was groaning, and Celebros could tell he was in pain.  
  
'There!' Eldarion gasped, holding up a small splinter of metal. The King let out a stifled moan and his eyes flickered closed again, unconcious. Eldarion drew a long breath. He quickly wrapped the stab-wound again, for it had started to bleed once more. 'Celebros, can you help me? Which horse can carry the most weight?'  
  
While Celebros was still studying the horses as if puzzled, Snaga looked at the four horses. He pointed to the one by the trees which he and the King had ridden.  
  
'That one? Are you sure?'  
  
Snaga nodded.  
  
Eldarion and Celebros set the limp form of the King Elessar onto the horse. Eldarion climbed up behind him.  
  
'You,' Eldarion said, pointing to the orc, who nodded. 'Can you ride that one?' He pointed at his horse. Snaga looked sadly at it and shook his head.  
  
'Horse no like orc. Snaga too small, but horse would not carry him without another rider, a Man.'  
  
Cundariel looked at Eldarion. 'I can tell the horse to follow us. It will obey.'  
  
'All right. Snaga, what will you do?'  
  
'Snaga doesn't know,' the orc said, shaking his head vigorously.  
  
'Cundariel, could you -'  
  
'I apologize, but I will not ride with an orc,' she said firmly.  
  
'He can ride with me,' Celebros said. He would like a chance to find out what had happened so that the King would trust an orc, and an orc would be friendly to Men.  
  
Snaga clambered awkwardly up behind Celebros. Celebros made sure he was seated well, then whispered to Halbarad: 'Noro lim.'  
  
+++++  
  
'My King Elessar, the wound was made by an orc-knife, but, luckily, not a cursed blade. It was fairly deep, but the bleeding was stopped well. The main problem was that the bandages were not very clean. Therefore, since it was not washed, the wound may become infected. This will cause inflammation. If you find this happening, you must immediately return to this House. Until then, there is nothing more I can do. I dare not try to clean it any more than I have, for that could reopen the wound, and you have lost far too much blood already.'  
  
The monotonous voice drilled into Eldarion, but he could tell his father was not paying attention to the healer. It was nothing that the King did not already know, but he should still listen. He had never set much store in his healers or herb-masters, being that he was so learned already in these arts, but he had been paying less and less attention.  
  
Eldarion saw the healer turn and look distastefully at the orc that was standing on the King's left side, still, silent, and dutiful. He was paying rapt attention to the man, but slight uneasiness showed on his face when he saw the way the man looked at him.  
  
Snaga glanced uncertainly at Eldarion, who nodded at him. He, Celebros, and Cundariel had all heard how Snaga had helped the King Elessar, but to the rest of those that had seen him in the City, it was a much talked-about mystery.  
  
'Vile creatures, I don't see why they've let him in the City. What if he attacks someone? It's a danger to us all, you know. We should petition for him to be banished.'  
  
'As I heard it, it snuck into the City. I heard it's a slave now.'  
  
'Well,' one of the listening guards announced, 'I reckon the King knows what he's dealing with, near enough anyway, and we oughtn't go meddling in matters as that. Unnatural as it is, I'm going to let it be, and if you've any sense you'll do the same.'  
  
'Oh, Pernathos. We all know you cracked seventeen years ago. You may not have realized it, but you're not right in the head and you don't know nothin' bout that. You oughter shut your mouth and leave us sensible folk alone and in peace. It's certainly our business if the King's letting a mad killer run loose in the City. As I was saying, Garla, this thing is pretty small, and if - if, I say - we ever find him alone, I say let's us jump him. They'll never know.'  
  
'Well,' Pernathos said quietly, 'if I'm a loyal Guard it's my obligation to tell authorities what you're planning. Good day.'  
  
And so on.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion had heard some of it, folks looking dark-eyed at him, at Celebros, or Cundariel, and looking purely murderous when they saw the little orc trailing along. He had been warned by a man, the lesser Guard Pernathos, that there were those in the City that wanted to kill Snaga, if they caught him alone. He had thanked the man, and told his father. The King had asked him if he could make sure Snaga was always with him, or Celebros, or the Elf. So far, Cundariel had not gone anywhere with him. Eldarion was mildly afraid that, if they were ever alone, the Elf might save the City's gossiping people their dirty work and do it for them.  
  
For now, he had been asked by his father, who was still recovering from his ordeal, to find news of Legolas Greenleaf, and, if possible, ask him to come to the City, and Gimli Elf-friend with him, to see the King. They were to be told in advance about circumstances, but not about why specifically he wanted them. Eldarion himself did not know, although he had his suspicions.  
  
He had not spoken to Celebros much in the past few days (it had been a week since they had entered the City with the injured King Elessar), but had seen him in the practice yard with Cundariel. The Elf had learned much from Elladan and Elrohir. She was young for an Elf, being only around seven hundred, if he remembered correctly.  
  
He suspected the King had asked Cundariel to teach him these things. He was slightly relieved, too: the boy had an extremely hard blow. It seemed that he had fully recovered from whatever had ailed him: he had acted and looked healthy since the morning they had gotten the news - the morning he had fallen asleep in Celebros' rooms.  
  
He set out from the Inner City in the late morning to head for the stables. Snaga trotted along beside him, looking around at the City in amazement. He never seemed to tire of gazing at the Tower of Ecthelion. He remembered his father telling him that he had never seen a more welcome sight than the White Tower. He had sounded as if he was saddened as he said it, as if with these words was brought a memory.  
  
Eldarion shook his head, looking down at the little orc. Snaga was grinning up at him.  
  
'Snaga think White City beautiful. He wish he live here.'  
  
'It is beautiful,' Eldarion said, looking at the Tower of Ecthelion. He knew Faramir stood there in the mornings when he was in the City instead of Ithilien, and that Boromir had used to. Now once in a while the King would stand there with him.  
  
'What we do today?' The orc's voice brought him out of his recollection. Snaga was unusually curious. It would not be that hard to forget you were talking to an orc and not a Man. Except that his voice was rough and gutteral, and his speech was still harsh, and not as adapted to using Numenorean.  
  
'We are going to try to find where some of my father's friends are. They were also of the Fellowship of the Ring. Legolas, an Elf, and a dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin.'  
  
When Eldarion mentioned Elves, he saw that Snaga's face changed; it was both unhappy and wistful, but also eager. 'We go far?'  
  
'We might go quite far, yes. It may take us days to track them down. They travel all over. Usually Gimli is in the caves in Helm's Deep; he is sort of in control of them, and Legolas came to Ithilien often, but in the last few years they have been there less often, and have been traveling back to their homes, and in Fangorn. They might be in Rohan, or in Lothlorien.'  
  
'In Golden Wood?' Snaga asked with a start. He had been learning the Numenorean names for places. 'Orc call it Wood of Death. That what Ungor call it. He say it where Elves live, and Elves had once kill many of our - their - many of the orcs. Ungor hate Elves, but Snaga wants to meet Elves. Ungor wanted Snaga to hate Elves, but Snaga like them. They not like Snaga, though,' he added sadly.  
  
'I think Legolas will, when he learns your story. I don't know, because I do not know him well, but when he finds how you helped the King, I think he will not mind you then.'  
  
'Celebros' friend Elf, she know what I did, she no like me,' he said sullenly. They had finally found Eldarion's horse, and were looking for proper saddlebags in which to store food and water. Snaga looked around curiously, and seeing a bag on the wall took it down and brought it over to the horse.  
  
'She's had some bad experiences with orcs. Here, now we'll have to stop in the pantry for some food. Do you know the way? Follow me.'  
  
+++++  
  
It was not long before they were past the walls of the City. Snaga was still looking longingly back at the Tower of Ecthelion. Eldarion did not look back, but he rode on hard, and silently. When they reached a point that the City was no more than a spot of shining white, Eldarion reined in the horse and turned to the northwest.  
  
He was uncertain which way to go. His father had advised that Legolas and Gimli might be in Lothlorien, or in Rohan,or in Fangorn Forest. It seemed more likely that they would be in Rohan, for Lothlorien was all but abandoned, and the Ents still dwelled in the Forest.  
  
He turned his horse and rode toward Rohan, and the Fangorn Forest.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros bit back an angry exclamation. The King looked cooly at him, his eyebrows raised as if he knew what his grandson had been about to say. Cundariel stood rigid, impassive and calm, but for a moment Celebros could have sworn that the Elf had had some outward reaction, like ripples on a smooth pool. Or a small crack in a glass pane.  
  
He took a slow breath and opened his mouth. King Elessar gave him a look, and he shut it quickly. Looking at Cundariel, he continued.  
  
'You are wondering, no doubt, why I didn't send you with my son. There is a very specific reason for this. I have obtained important information from you, Cundariel, about the North. The pieces have begun to fall in place. Galadon has built a fortress far to the North, in places yet uncharted. Years ago, before I was made King, I traveled the lands of the North. How long ago was it, did you say, that Galadon left the house of your family?'  
  
'Thirty-four years.'  
  
'And how long ago did your brother disappear?'  
  
'Thirty years.'  
  
The King sat, debating that for a moment. At last he spoke. 'It has been fifty-one years since I last traveled the lands of the North extensively, and even then there was a presence that prevented me from going that far. I believe Galadon began his plot many years before you guess.'  
  
Cundariel seemed to consider this. For a moment all was quiet, and it seemed to Celebros that time had stopped. He stared intently at Cundariel. At last she stirred, and the stillness was broken.  
  
'I believe you are right,' she said at last. 'I have been thinking recently of the years that preceded my brother's disappearance, and for about twenty-six years before that, Galadon would go into the Wild more. Around once every month, he would leave for a few days. I had not thought of it before. Then for a year before he left, he left only twice.  
  
'My brother became slightly anxious in the weeks before Galadon left. He had used to spend much time learning from Galadon, for although my cousin is two hundred years my elder, my brother is almost one hundred years younger than I.  
  
'After my brother disappeared, I went to Imladris. It was all but abandoned, but there were yet perhaps twenty Elves there, including Elladan and Elrohir, who I have known since I was young. They would travel in the North hunting orcs, you remember, and they stopped at my home many times. I was only ninety one when I moved from Mirkwood, and I did not travel much, so I was eager to do so.'  
  
She stopped and sighed wearily. 'I told them of what had happened, and they told me they were going to hunt orcs again, and I decided to travel with them. But we found naught of Galadon's movements.  
  
'For a time we were afraid Tasarian had left us like Galadon, but then we remembered his anxiety in the days before his disappearance, and had talked in his sleep. Elves, as you may know, seldom have disturbed sleep, but he spoke in his sleep of being... taken. We though nothing of it, for though it was unusual, there had been silence in our parts for a long time.  
  
'Then, one night, he fell asleep on a flet outside, and we left him there, for as I said he had not been sleeping well, and was now peaceful. We did not want to disturb him.  
  
'The next morning, I was asked by the young scouts where my brother was. I told them where he had been the other night, and they said he was not there. He occasionally took walks, so we let it be. But he did not turn up, and soon I heard that three strange men had been seen on the outskirts of our lands. Three men, and one Elf. The Elf was described as wearing a light blue robe - that is what Galadon often wore.'  
  
The King looked up sharply, but it was more decisive than surprised. 'The reason I did not send you with Eldarion was because as soon as he returns you will be setting out North, far North, and seeking Galadon.Llama I want you to try to find the location of his fortress, and perhaps spy and find out their plans. This is your job, and it is urgent you go with haste, for a shadow has been growing in the North, and it is long past time that it should retract and vanish.'  
  
Cundariel nodded sharply. 'I quite agree, King Elessar,' she said. The King looked up in mild surprise; Celebros realized suddenly that this was the first time she had addressed him by any title.  
  
Celebros opened his mouth, remembering what it was that had been confusing him. The King turned toward him. 'Yes?' he said softly, smoothly.  
  
'If we are not leaving until after Eldarion gets back, then why couldn't we go with him?'  
  
'How much do you know of where you are going? Have you studied any maps? Have you trained in anything? Do you have supplies, and plans?'  
  
Celebros saw what he was talking about and closed his still-open mouth. But there was something else bothering him -  
  
'What is Eldarion doing? Where is he going?'  
  
'I do not know where he is going. He is seeking Legolas and Gimli, my friends and companions of long ago, and I left it up to him whether to go to Lothlorien or Fangorn Forest. I believe they are in one of those places. If he goes to Lothlorien, he will be able to find them easily, if they are there, and it will be fairly obvious if they are not. If he goes to Fangorn Forest, which I suspect he will, he will likely visit the Treegarth of Orthanc and ask the Ents.'  
  
And Celebros knew it would not be any good to inquire more into that matter. He folded his arms across his chest. He heard Cundariel echo his own thoughts, although he rather thought she was talking about her brother rather than Eldarion. 'He could have at least warned us somehow, so we could say goodbye.'  
  
Turning to the Elf, and addressing both her and his grandfather, he said, 'Where ought we start?'  
  
+++++  
  
'Well, I think it's about time we took another rest, Snaga. The sun is setting.'  
  
The two of them must have been something of a sight: from far off doubtless they looked like a man and a small dwarf, but when one got near, they could see a man and an orc, deep in conversation, both looking tired, drawn, and hungry. Their horse was in good condition, but wore no saddle.  
  
'How long we been on Road, Eldarion?'  
  
'This is the sixth day. We ought to be there tomorrow, if our luck holds. Maybe the day after.'  
  
'Where "there"?'  
  
'The Treegarth of Orthanc, where the Ents are. I swear, Snaga, if I've told you this once I've told you twenty times. Can't you remember?'  
  
Snaga looked uncertain. 'Snaga doesn't know what it is. Orthanc, Snaga knows. Used to be where man Sharku lived. Snaga know that - I know that. Orcs say that. But what be there? King's friends be there?'  
  
'I don't know, Snaga, but the Ents are there, like I said, and they will know whether Legolas and Gimli are there, or when they left.'  
  
'Food?' Snaga asked hopefully.  
  
'Yes, we can eat now.'  
  
'No. Food, there? We get more food there?'  
  
'I don't know if the Ents keep what they call man-food. They drink Ent- draughts. They don't need food. But there are berries and nuts in the forest, and there is game. But we must not harm any trees. You remember that, don't you?'  
  
'Snaga remembers.'  
  
'Good. Do you want some meat? I have some water, and dried fruit, and bread and a bit of dry meat.'  
  
Snaga looked up hopefully. 'Snaga wants - I want food,' he said, nodding.  
  
The orc took some meat, and some water. He did not like the bread. But Eldarion himself took only a sip of water, and a small chunk of the bread, which was slightly stale. The light of the fire began to dim, and night fell, and it was cold. The silvery moon was near to full, but the light that it cast was dim and yellowish. Eldarion did not notice these things. Long after Snaga was asleep, he stood atop a rock, staring into the endless dark.  
  
Snaga awoke at sunup to find Eldarion sitting against a rock, dozing. As soon as the orc's foot crunched on the gravelly ground, the Man's eyes opened and he stood. Without a word, he and Snaga cleaned up camp and packed the horse. He mounted, and Snaga stood by the side of the horse and scrabbled to clamber on. Being unsuccessful, he looked pleadingly at Eldarion, who immediately lifted him up. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but weary.  
  
'I have studied the landscape as much as I could last night, and I believe if we take a break at noontime we shall reach the Treegarth of Orthanc by five. We will spend the night with the Ents and get news of Legolas and Gimli. Then we will set out in the afternoon. Whether into the woods or to Lothlorien, we must take a break. We cannot travel on this way much longer; little food and sleep, riding with one or two breaks per day. The horse is in fine condition; Celebros told me he thought this one, looked better than another and I have no doubt he was right. He has a way with horses.'  
  
Snaga said nothing. Eldarion nudged the horse, and they rode off.  
  
+++++  
  
Treebeard was the first to meet them that night as they rode into the area surrounding the Treegarth of Orthanc. 'Hoom, now,' he said, sounding disgusted, 'who are you, what are you doing, and why are you traveling with one of those, hoom, hom, evileyed blackskinned vermin? I do not like being hasty, but orcs are not allowed in the Treegarth. It is a sanctuary of life, and he is an omen of death.'  
  
'I am Eldarion son of Elessar,' Eldarion replied calmly. 'I am on an errand from my father, and this orc is Snaga, a friend of the King. Not long ago, Snaga saved the King's life. But if Snaga will not be allowed, then I will not enter.'  
  
'Hoom! Now this is a story, indeed yes. Well, I suppose he will be allowed for the moment, but I will want him under guard. Yes, you have the look of the King. Welcome to the Treegarth of Orthanc!'  
  
They rode along the path, Treebeard striding slowly along beside them and talking in his strange voice.  
  
'You are, hoom, on an errand you say? What might this be?'  
  
'We seek friends of my father the King, an Elf, Legolas Greenleaf, and Gimli son of Gloin. Are they in the Forest, do you know?'  
  
'Well, I last saw them, hm, let me see, yes, I last saw them nine days ago. They were going to travel around the Forest for a while, but I do not know where they were going. They went northeast, but they were going to loop around and go somewhere. But, hm, I do not know where. They have stayed here long; after they went across the Forest the first time, they came back together about two years later, and headed out for your father's city. They came back about a year later, and stayed in the Forest for some time, then set back out. They were going to see Eryn Lasgalen, and then go to Erebor, I believe. They have been back and forth ever since, but I do not think they have been to the City for three years now, hoom.'  
  
'That would be right,' Eldarion said, remembering the visit. Legolas had spoken much to the King about matters in his lands, and had told Eldarion about it some. The Elf was very knowled-geable, and it was always interesting to listen to him. Gimli, on the other hand, had also talked to the King, but rarely spoke to anyone else except Legolas.  
  
'Hoom, well, I see you have been on the road for many days. Are you tired? Perhaps you would like a draught from the Entwash?'  
  
'Yes, we are quite tired. We set out from Minas Tirith seven days ago now, and have had to ration our food and water. I for one would very much like to have some. Snaga?'  
  
'Snaga... Snaga would like some too.'  
  
'Hoom, that is good! Follow me! I am glad you have come, son of King Elessar, for I would hear of news of your City. And I would also like to send a message to your father.' The old Ent's face darkened, if that was possible, for a moment, but then he laughed. 'Hoom, come now! Let us speak of merrier things. How do things go in your land?'  
  
Eldarion told him of what had been going on in the past few years, and found that Treebeard was a very attentive listener, and the only interruptions were occasional chuckles or 'hoom's. They stopped to drink for a while, and then Eldarion began to speak of how Celebros had gone into the Grey Wood all that had happened since. With every word, Treebeard's face bacame darker and more grave, and he was silent, but then Eldarion told him how Snaga had saved his father, and Treebeard began to chuckle. He smiled down at the small orc, and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Hoom now! That is well. When the enemy begins to join you, then well indeed are the times.'  
  
Then his face grew grave once more. 'The Ents, too, have been troubled by the North. Something lurks there in wait, and it is slowly emerging. Ents will be happy to help drive it back. We do not fear it, but it greatly worries us. Galadon you say his name is? I have not heard that. But perhaps you would like to sleep now. Come, there is room. We have places for Men, Elves, Dwarves -' He cut off looking sidelong at Snaga. 'We have room for all. I will take you there. There are soft beds. It will not be cold. You will rest well tonight.'  
  
Treebeard called up another Ent. 'This is Talltrunk, in your tongue. He will show you where you may sleep.'  
  
Talltrunk looked down at them. 'Come along,' he said kindly; his voice was deep and sad. They followed him, slightly slowly. 'What are your names?'  
  
'I am Eldarion Telcontar, and this is my friend Snaga.'  
  
'I know most of your story, for I have been watching you. It is well that you have come. When will you be setting out to look for Legolas and Gimli?'  
  
'We will set out around midday tomorrow.'  
  
The Ent nodded slowly. 'Always hasty, now,' he murmered, 'never telling us stories as you used. Well, you are on an errand. I suppose it is unavoidable.' Then he motioned in front of them, and they saw that they had come to a large house of stone. A lantern was lit inside, and it cast a friendly light about the room. The ceiling and door were very high. Inside were many beds of different sizes. 'Do not wander out at night,' the Ent said quietly. 'It is not hard to get lost.' Then he left.  
  
Snaga chose a dwarf-sized bed and flung himself into it. The sun was now almost fully set. Eldarion lay his things beside a bed crafted for a Man. The bedding was soft and thick. It was very comfortable. With a smile, Eldarion lay down and fell fast asleep.  
  
+++++  
  
Treebeard looked at the two still forms in the beds. 'What do you think, Talltrunk?' he said softly. 'Do they tell the truth? I do not love orcs, but this one is not evil, even if it may not be wholly good. I do not know what to think. Why would not the King send escorts, or scouts? Why would he send his son, alone save a single small, hm, a single orc?'  
  
'I do not know, Eldest,' the younger Ent said quietly. 'I do not know why he did, hm, send his son, and an orc, but I do know they told the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but they are honest. They told all that was safe for them to tell, and that is good. They are not hasty.'  
  
'That is true. Leaf and twig, yes, of course, you speak truly. The North is worrying me much, but I do not know whether it was merely something they held back for good reason, or something they did not know at all. They was something unusual, something not right, about these.'  
  
Eldarion stirred in his sleep. 'He is uneasy,' Talltrunk said sadly. 'Something troubles him. I wish there was more, hoom, yes, that we could do. I think that there is something that troubles him greatly, but he has not told anyone. He is wise for a Man.'  
  
'Yes,' Treebeard said quietly. 'Like his father. Yes he is.'  
  
The two Ents stood in silence for some time, then without a word slowly turned and strode out of the hut and into the darkness. The night went on, and the Man and the orc slept undisturbed. Undisturbed, but not unwatched. No one noticed the shadow that stood outside the door. It was slightly too tall to be an orc, but too short to be an Ent. It stayed by the door until the rays of morning began to rise above the trees, and then silently slipped away into the forest. A jay twittered in the trees, and the dark was overcome. It was the morning of the eighth day after they had left the city. The two slept on for a good portion of the morning.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion yawned, and sat up. Snaga was grinning from beside the bed. 'Treebeard says you sleepy head. He say I come get you to eat. He have man-food.'  
  
Eldarion hurried over to where Treebeard was, Snaga leading him. The Ent was near a stream, and he looked up with a smile when he saw them approaching. 'Hello, Eldarion. Did you, hoom, did you sleep well?'  
  
'Yes, thank you,' Eldarion said politely. The Ent smiled. 'I have some man-food. Meat, fruit, nuts, and water. I also have a small supply of pipe-weed, if you smoke.'  
  
'No, thank you, Treebeard. I do not smoke, for it makes me cough.'  
  
'Hoom, yes, smoke chokes me as well. I do not know why you Men like to use it so much. I do not understand it. Does it not make others cough?'  
  
'Apparently not.'  
  
'Hoom, well...yes. I have spoken to Snaga now, and I trust him. Never before have I met such an orc. I do not know, but I do not think, hoom, I do not think that he should be able to think what he thinks, as an orc. Orcs, as you know, were creatures of the Shadow. Now that it is gone, there are few left. Perhaps his power, too, is fading. I had wondered if it would dwindle once he was defeated, but not so soon, hoom, no. Perhaps it is something else, but if the Shadow in the East lived on, I am sure this would not have happened.'  
  
Eldarion nodded. Snaga was sitting on the ground nearby, close enough to have heard Treebeard's words, and was looking up, intrest and curiosity in his yellow-green eyes.  
  
They spent the morning talking to Treebeard. At about one, a tall gray Ent strode up.  
  
'Hoom, hello, Bregalad! This is Quickbeam, in your tongue,' he added to Eldarion. Snaga was dozing against the trunk of a large tree. 'What is happening on the outer wall?'  
  
'All is well,' Quickbeam said, his voice deep and very sad. 'It is one, and we were wondering what time the travelers here would be leaving. I have chosen Barkleaf and myself to lead them, Eldest.'  
  
'Hoom, that is well! Barkleaf may be a little hasty, but it will, yes, it should be good for him to have a task. Barkleaf and Quickbeam will lead you through the forest for a while. They will show you which way to go to find Legolas and Gimli, if they are still in the forest. Otherwise go straight out of the forest and head for the Golden Wood.'  
  
They left two hours later, and Treebeard saw them to a large clearing. There Quickbeam and Barkleaf were waiting. Barkleaf seemed anxious to get on, but Quickbeam spoke to Treebeard in their own tongue. It took a few minutes, and then they set into the foliage.  
  
Barkleaf had a strange voice; it was not deep but rich and flowing. He spoke of the woods, and laughed a good deal. When Snaga tripped and fell to the ground, he helped him up, laughing good-naturedly. They traveled on for perhaps two hours, then stopped at a small stream and drank. The water was cool, and it refreshed them seemingly more than other food had. They stopped again when the sun went down. Quickbeam had seldom spoken, but now he said to Eldarion, 'Continue on the path until you reach a place where it turns very sharply. The turn to the right and continue that way until you reach a very large clearing. The sun shines in brightly there. There are three trees there, and they were sacred to the Elves when they still came into the wood often. There, I believe, you will find your friends. The trees are called Nimbrethil, the White Birch, mightiest of the three, and Hallorn and Galadhal, the Tall Trees. If Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli are in these woods, they are there.'  
  
Eldarion bowed. 'Thank you for your help. Send our greetings and thanks to Treebeard.'  
  
'We will do that.' The two tall Ents turned and walked away, soon vanishing in the growing dark.  
  
+++++  
  
Snaga awoke far after sunrise. Eldarion was crouched over a small fire. He looked over. 'Good morning, Snaga! Would you like some fish?'  
  
'Snaga like fish,' the small orc said, his face splitting in a yawn.  
  
'Good. Can you watch the fire a moment?'  
  
'Snaga doesn't know. He no watch fire before.'  
  
'Oh, it's all right. Just be careful. I have to go scout out the path.'  
  
Eldarion ran off. The trees semmed to close in around him as he jogged ahead. The path was clear. He continued ahead for a couple of minutes. Just as he was turning to go back, he heard a shreik from the campsite.  
  
'Snaga?!' he yelled. He turned and darted back to the camp. He reached the site, and sighed. Snaga was leaping around the clearing holding the stick that held one of the fish. The fish had started on fire, and Snaga was trying to put it out. Hurrying over to the orc with a small grin, he extinguished the fish.  
  
'Ruin my breakfast, why don't you? Can't you roast a simple fish without burning it?'  
  
'Snaga sorry,' the little orc said, hanging his head and looking fearful.  
  
'Oh, it's all right. Between the other one and the remains of this one, there'll be enough for us both.'  
  
Snaga grinned.  
  
+++++  
  
'When we get there?' Snaga asked with a small smile.  
  
Eldarion gave him a long-suffering glare and said nothing. In truth, he had been giving the orc estimates the entire time, but now they were likely no more than an hour away from the Trees.  
  
They slowly went on.  
  
Other than Snaga's continuous repeated questions, there was not another word spoken until the tall tops of three trees came into sight above the tops of all the others.  
  
Eldarion saw the clearing ahead, and before he stepped into sight, he shut his eyes, pushed Snaga behind him, and took a deep breath. He took a step forward, and opened his eyes.  
  
Three tall, majestic trees stood in the middle of the tremendous clearing. The center one was taller than the others. All three sat on a very small, perfect hill. The leaves were bright and fresh. There were no weeds on the hill. And underneath the middle tree sat two figures; one tall and one short. The tall one leapt lightly to his feet, calling to the other. Legolas, for that was indeed who it was, strode forward, looking both friendly, worried, and confused. He also seemed to be ready to draw an arrow.  
  
'Eldarion! It is good to see you. What is this? Is something wrong in the City?'  
  
'Not precisely, my friend. My father sent me to ask you to come to the City. My sister's son, Celebros, recently went alone to the Grey Woods. And while he was there...'  
  
They walked back to the trees, Legolas listening carefully to his story. When he got to the point where he told of the King being stabbed, Legolas stopped him, hissing through his teeth.  
  
'Eldarion, you still have not mentioned this -' He gestured distastefully at Snaga, '- this orc here.'  
  
'I will come to it. For the moment, you need not worry. He is to be trusted.'  
  
Gimli had not said a word up to this point, but now he burst out, 'The thing is an orc. They are vile creatures. Why should we not kill him? You say he is to be trusted, but I have never before met an orc that is not twisted, lying and poison-tongued.'  
  
Snaga's face had been screwing up, and he suddenly shouted out, 'Snaga hate orcs!'  
  
Legolas and Gimli stared at the small figure. He was breathing hard through gritted teeth, and he was looking angrily at Gimli, though it was not toward the Dwarf his anger was aimed.  
  
'Let me continue with the story, and I'll explain. Enough, Snaga,' Eldarion said, exasperated. The orc sat down again, almost pounting.  
  
Eldarion finished the tale. As he told them of how Snaga had saved the King, Legolas laughed out loud and actually smiled at the orc. Gimli had chuckled, and grinned to no one in particular.  
  
Legolas smiled and nodded thoughtfully. He took one look at Gimli and cocked his head slightly, grinning. The dwarf nodded. 'Very well,' Legolas said. 'We will come to Minas Tirith. But why does the King want us? I see naught that we can do.'  
  
'That I do not know.'  
  
'Well, the King likely has his reasons.'  
  
They spent the night in that clearing. Snaga cast himself on the ground and was soon asleep. Gimli lay awake speaking to Legolas for a while, then he too fell asleep. Legolas sat, his back to Eldarion, by the fire for a long time. The moon was beginning to rise. Without turning Legolas spoke.  
  
'Why do you not sleep? It is late, the road is long, and we have many miles to cover.'  
  
'I am not tired.'  
  
'Eldarion Telcontar, that is a lie. You are tired, and weary. Why, I ask again, do you not sleep?'  
  
Eldarion did not speak for a moment. The Elf turned and looked at him, his head cocked curiously. 'Why?' he asked softly.  
  
'I do not wish to dream. My dreams have been confusing and frightening. I wish to sit and think.'  
  
'What dreams have you had?'  
  
Once again, Eldarion hesitated. At last he spoke, in a slow halting voice.  
  
'I am in a dark cave, standing on a narrow pathway. Many orcs are shooting toward me, but they do not hit me. Then a great beast comes. He is tall and black, yet clear and fiery - and for a moment I feel frozen for terror of the beast. I back away, and I fall into the shadows.'  
  
Legolas looked at him, still silent, not moving a muscle. There was something in his face, of remembrance and startle-ment, but he hid it well.  
  
'Well,' Eldarion said after a pause, 'does it mean anything?'  
  
The Elf looked at Snaga. 'Celebros is in danger,' Legolas said simply, then jerking his head in a quite un-Elf-like fashion toward the small orc, 'and he might be.'  
  
'Why? How do you -'  
  
'I know things that few other do. He is in danger, grave danger.'  
  
'No,' Eldarion whispered. But Legolas' voice was certain. 'You should get some rest, my friend,' he said simply, and turned silently back to the fire. After a moment, Eldarion lay down. Sleep came, and with it, dreams.  
  
+++++  
  
...and with it, dreams.  
  
When Eldarion awoke, Legolas was gone. Gimli sat silently beside the third tree. Eldarion sat up and saw that a rolled-up cloak had been placed under his head. It was one of Legolas'.  
  
Gimli showed them where there was food, and they ate silently. Just as they finished cleaning up, Legolas strode back into the clearing with a large horse. He was smiling and singing softly to himself. Eldarion caught a few of the words:  
  
'To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,  
  
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying...'  
  
Then the Elf's voice faded out of hearing again. Seeing them looking at him, he stopped and smiled at them. 'Let us make ready to set out!' he said. But then Eldarion heard him sigh, as if he were leaving something he would rather not. He walked to the trunk of the tree and spoke softly, in the Elven-tongue, but Eldarion could not hear him, and he did not think it was the trees that he regretted leaving so much.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion sat up again that night. Legolas turned to look at him a few times, silent and concerned. At last Eldarion lay down and fell asleep.  
  
He dreamed again, and awoke with a cold sweat slicking his skin. The grey dawn would soon be approaching; a tiny glimmer of silver was hanging moodily over the horizon. Legolas sat still on a stone, his head bowed and his eyes closed. He was not asleep. He opened his eyes, and Eldarion saw that there was a sadness in them. His seemingly ageless face looked worn and weary. He had not slept, again.  
  
They traveled at a great pace that day. It was cloudly and dismal, dreary and dim. They did not speak much, and when they did it was about the road. But that night, when Eldarion woke up, Legolas was asleep.  
  
+++++  
  
They rode into the City a few days later and headed directly to the Hall. The guards at the door bowed to Eldarion and looked disapprovingly at Snaga. As they entered the great room, they saw the the King Elessar sat alone at a small table in the center of the hall. He looked up as they approached and sat smiling.  
  
Legolas and Gimli bowed. 'Hello, King Elessar,' Legolas said quietly. The King laughed.  
  
'Hello, my old friends!' he said. 'I would stand, but my leg, it is not very good. Welcome again to Minas Tirith. It has been too long since you have been here.'  
  
'It has indeed been long,' Gimli said, rather gruffly.  
  
'And how are you?' the King asked.  
  
'We are well,' Legolas said cooly. 'We wish to hear of the City! How fare things here?'  
  
+++++  
  
So they spoke of all that had happened in the City, and although none of them noticed, before long two figures came striding through the doors silently, and listened. At last the story ended, and Legolas turned and looked at the two figures. It was Cundariel and Celebros. Seeing Cundariel, his eyes widened and he gasped.  
  
'Cundariel! It has been long, far, far too long! I have not seen you since you last visited the Woodland Realm, near to seventy years ago!'  
  
Cundariel appeared equally glad to see him, and between their exclamations the others worked out that they had been friends in the Woodland Realm befor Cundariel left it. The two of them went into a corner and talked, and Gimli now spoke to the King, Celebros, and Eldarion of deeds in the Woodland Realm and Erebor. They sat in the room, telling of what had passed, until a great bell rang out. 'Well!' said the King with a laugh, 'I don't know about the rest of you, but I should like something to eat. Shall I call for a meal to be brought?'  
  
He called the men at the doors, and a long table was pulled into the center of the room, and a meal was brought. It was good food; there was chicken and bread, and the finest wine, and also Gimli and the King brought out their pipes, and some of the weed was brought for them to smoke.  
  
Although the Hall has not been described yet, I am sure you can picture it; a great room, domed on top, with creamy walls and a window in the high ceiling. There were great oak doors with golden handles. The rugs were of deep red velvet. There were paintings about the walls. Also, there was a raised platform in the center, for minstrels and entertainers to stand upon. Around the room many oaken tables and cushioned chairs were strewn. At night, the hall was lit with many candles and lamps.  
  
When they were finished eating and smoking, the King spoke to Legolas and Gimli of what he wanted them to do.  
  
'As you have heard, I set out before I was stabbed to meet soemone. Indeed, I was planning to meet Elladan and Elrohir in the Woodland Realm, but now, with my wound, I cannot, of course, travel. Thus I was wondering if the two of you could go to Eryn Lasgalen and tell them what I was going to tell them, and of why I could not meet them. Will you do this?'  
  
They said they would indeed do it, although Gimli sounded doubtful. 'When should we start?' Legolas asked, in his quiet manner.  
  
'I would like it very much if you could start in three days, for then you and Celebros and Cundariel could travel together until their road turns North.'  
  
'I think that will be practical,' Gimli said firmly. 'What road should we take? Not through the Grey Wood, or the Stonewain Valley, surely?'  
  
'This I must think on,' the King said slowly, 'for this seems the most direct way, and you have need of haste.'  
  
+++++  
  
It was sunrise, three days later, when the four of them set forth. Cundariel and Legolas spoke to each other in Elven, and Celebros understood some of it.  
  
'We are to travel along the east edge of Emyn Muil, and then -' - here there was a string of words he couldn't understand - '- towards Eryn Lasgalen and then go opposite directions? It will be weeks until we part, then, I shall have time to catch up on news of the North.'  
  
'Why did Tasarian...' Then there were a few words Celebros did not understand, '...for I left before he was old enough to leave. But then he...' Once again, some strange words were spoken. 'Why did he?'  
  
'He was not happy. He wanted to see you, and others who left. Many were restless, in those times.'  
  
They spoke like this for some time. They did not stop for a lunch, but ate as they rode, some traveling-cakes and water. 'It calls to me, but I must find Tasarian. He has been gone now for thirty summers. If he lives, he will be in no shape to escape without a great deal of help. But I must help him. He is my brother, and I will help him.'  
  
'I know,' Legolas said softly. 'I wish to see him again, but I cannot. The King has set me on an errand, and I obey. I will not fail him.'  
  
'Of course not,' she replied. 'Of course, you must not. I would never ask you to. Meet Elladan and Elrohir. This is a task as crucial as our own, perhaps. I know not what will happen next, but it will be...'  
  
They began to skirt the edges of Emyn Muil two weeks after leaving the City. Little happened in this time. They talked of their homes, or of adventures they had had in recent years. Celebros told them of what had happened when he had gone to the Grey Wood, and Legolas and Gimli explained the places they had gone and explored. They rode, not hard, but at a good pace. They rationed their food, and hunted when they could.  
  
Traveling Emyn Muil was dim, and hard work. They climbed, and climbed, and when night fell, they were already asleep save one of the Elves, who would alternate staying awake to watch, or both stay on guard all night. Celebros and Gimli made no protest. They both fell asleep as soon as they had eaten. Grey morning came on the sixth day, and they saw the end of it all. Now it would be a long journey, of many days and weeks, over plain and hill, swamp and marsh.  
  
There was little talk save between the two Elves, or of food or travel. Gimli spoke little, and seemed slightly put out by the way Legolas was seeminly ignoring both of them.  
  
When they reached the end of Emyn Muil, the talk grew. Legolas and Gimli would alternate, telling stories of the War of the Ring. Celebros had heard some of these from the King and Eldarion, but most of it was fully new. Cundariel was the only one among them to whom the tales were all unfamiliar. Even some that Legolas and Gimli had not actually experienced, such as the Watch-tower of Amon Sul, they had heard of at the Council. But although there were the stories, and occasional talk of the road, and other journeys, there was no talk of the quests they were each going on after they seperated.  
  
Nothing remarkable happened for the first week of their travel after they got away from Emyn Muil. Every day, they traveled at a quick pace. They awoke at dawn, ate, and set out for the day. They would take a brief rest at midday, and eat their dried meat, bread, and water. Then they would continue on until sunset and build a fire. They would prepare a meal then, eat, and sleep. Sometimes they set a guard, and sometimes they did not. Twice Legolas gave Celebros detailed instructions as to how to better shoot his bow.  
  
On the seventh day after leaving Emyn Muil, at nightfall they came across a cave in a large hillside. It had a rough, old look, and inside it was very dark. Even their torch shed little light.  
  
Gimli lead the way into the cave, holding the torch, and Cundariel brought up the rear. It was unfriendly, and the air was not very good. The Elves seemed hesitant, though Cundariel less than Legolas, for the latter had traveled into Moria, and had been to Erebor and other tunneled cities with Gimli.  
  
Suddenly, when they had been traveling nigh on ten minutes at a slow pace, Gimli gave a grunt and came forward slowly. The others lagged behind. He let out a surprised sound, and then held up, gingerly, a bone. It was large, almost the size of a deer's leg-bone. Legolas' eyes darkened.  
  
'There is, or has been, a beast lurking in these caves. I do not think we should go any farther lest it still be there.'  
  
Gimli made a sound of disdain, as if disgruntled, but nodded reluctantly and turned to lead the way back. Suddenly a low growl came from behind him, and he slowly began to turn back. Another growl, louder this time, echoed off the stone walls. Legolas drew his bow, and Cundariel followed suit, a shade slower. Their eyes were narrowed in the dim light, but they could see nothing. For what seemed like ages, they stood tense and alert, ready to fire. Nothing happened. Then -  
  
With a sharp gasp, Celebros saw two pinpricks of light appear. Whatever else the foul beast was, it was large. Legolas loosed an arrow, drawing another to his bowstring. Cundariel fired one, too. A grunt of surprise and pain came out of the darkness, and then there was a roar almost loud enough to knock them over. Into the feeble light the torch shed stepped a huge creature.  
  
It was a troll, but yet a small one, perhaps eight to nine feet tall, whereas a full grown cave troll was ten to fourteen feet. It must have been young.  
  
Its skin was grayish, and its small eyes were squinting and black. Two arrows jutted out of it; one in its upper left leg and one in its upper chest.  
  
'Keep back!' Legolas whispered to Gimli and Celebros.  
  
The thing snorted, reaching a huge hand forward. A small knife flew from Cundariel's hand and stuck into its palm. It roared again. Legolas loosed his second arrow. This one struck right below the creature's neck. Its blackish blood stained its chest and dripped down onto the floor. It seemed to back away, then hesitated. In the split second, while it stood motionless and exposed, Legolas loosed his third arrow. It flew through the air and embedded itself in the thing's neck. With a lurch, it fell forward. It was dead.  
  
Legolas sighed. Cundariel looked frusterated.  
  
'My best throwing knife,' she muttered regretfully. 'I'll want another.'  
  
'Yes,' Legolas said with no emotion. 'Let us get out of this foul place. The reek of that creature stings my eyes and fills my nose.'  
  
They hurried back out of the tunnel. Cundariel sat down on the ground.  
  
'The air in there was rank,' she muttered. 'Let us not go into such a place again!'  
  
+++++  
  
It was dark outside. They lit a small fire and ate in silence. Then Legolas smiled. He stood up and asked if they would like to hear a tale.  
  
'Certainly,' they told him.  
  
A small smile flitted across his face. 'Tonight I will tell you of the tale of the Finding of the Great Ring. I did not witness it, but I heard of it at the Council of Elrond, in Imladris.  
  
'There one day came to Bilbo Baggins' door the great wizard Gandalf the Grey, who Elves call Mithrandir.' Recognition dawned in Cundariel's eyes, and Gimli smiled from old memories; a smile that recalled good times and sadness. 'Also with him came thirteen dwarves, who were Thorin Oakensheild, descendant of Mountain-Kings, and his twelve companions. With them Bilbo the hobbit set out to kill Smaug the Worm, in the year of 2957. The party was assailed by orcs in a High Pass of the Misty Mountains as they went toward the Wilderlands. Bilbo was lost for a time in the black, foul orc-mines deep under the mountains, and there, as he groped in the dark, he put his hand on a ring lying on the tunnel floor. He put it in his pocket.  
  
'Trying to find his way out, Bilbo went on until he could go no farther. He was at the bottom of the mountain roots, and there lay a cold, dark lake. On an island in the lake lived Gollum, a loathsome creature with big pale eyes who paddled around catching and eating anything live, raw, especially fish, and occasionally orcs. He possesed a small golden ring that he had come across ages before. It was very precious to him.  
  
'Maybe he would have attacked Bilbo if the hobbit had not had his Elven- blade from Gondolin. To gain time, Gollum challenged Bilbo to a riddle contest, saying if Bilbo lost, he would eat him, and if Gollum lost, then he would show Bilbo the way out. Bilbo accepted the challenge. They exchanged riddles, which became gradually harder and harder, until finally Bilbo came across one he could not solve:  
  
This thing all things devours:  
  
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers.  
  
Knaws iron, bites steel,  
  
Grinds hard stone to meal.  
  
Slays king, ruins town,  
  
And beats high mountains down.  
  
'It was nearly the ruin of all. Bilbo sat in the darkness and thought and thought, and Gollum beacame impatient, creeping closer greedily. Bilbo tried to cry out, 'Give me more time!' but all that issued from his mouth was, 'Time!'  
  
'Now Gollum was frightfully disappointed and quite angry, and Bilbo was saved by pure luck. For the answer, of course, was indeed Time.  
  
'Then Bilbo could not think of a riddle. He crammed his hands in his pockets frantically, thinking hard, when he comes across the ring, forgotten about for the moment. He said aloud, 'What have I got in my pocket?' Gollum could not guess it, though he insisted on being given three tries. So Bilbo won the contest.  
  
'But Gollum was angry, hungry, and had a deceitful spirit. He went back to his island to find his ring, which made him invisible. But he had lost it. Bilbo heard a blood-curdling shreik. Gollum had guessed the riddle too late. 'What has it got in its pocketses?' he cried, and flew back to kill the poor frightened hobbit. Bilbo realized his danger none too soon, and fled, accidenally slipping on the Ring, not knowing its powers. Gollum passed him in the dark to guard the door, and Bilbo followed. From Gollum's mutters, he finally guessed the truth and realized the ring was his only hope.  
  
'Finally, Gollum stopped, blocking Bilbo's only way out. Almost he killed the foul thing, but he was stayed by pity and mercy. Steeling his courage, he leapt over Gollum and ran for the guarded exit, pursued by Gollum's anguished, despairing cry, 'Thief, thief, theif! Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it for ever!  
  
'Thus Bilbo escaped Gollum. He slipped past the guards and returned to the company, but the ring he kept secret for some time.'  
  
+++++  
  
There was a long silence after Legolas' tale. Then Celebros nodded and broke the spell.  
  
'Well told! I had not heard that tale in depth before, the King just told us that Bilbo Baggins had gotten lost in the mountains while on a quest, found a small golden ring, and been in a riddle contest with a creature Gollum. He didn't go on for long, but told us that Gollum lost the contest and tried to kill him for the ring, which he had posessed before. I had no idea it was so detailed!'  
  
'Indeed,' said Legolas, 'it was more complicated than any would have guessed. It was no more and no less than any could have predicted of a Ring-Bearer; decietful, full of malice, loving and hating their gift, their curse, and nothing else. Now we should sleep, I think. Who will guard first?'  
  
'I will,' Cundariel said quickly.  
  
'And I second,' said Gimli.  
  
'I'll take third,' Celebros said hurridly. He did not want to be the last to speak.  
  
'I will go last, in that case,' Legolas nodded.  
  
Celebros was shaken awake by Gimli when it was his turn to watch. The dwarf was blinking, despite all his remarks about how sturdy and hard to tire dwarves were. 'Your turn,' he grunted. Celebros sat up and sleepily climbed to his feet. Gimli lay down immediately and was soon asleep.  
  
Celebros sat in the dark, the fire having gone out, standing up about once every ten to twenty minutes and pacing around the site to keep him awake. Nothing happened, and it got colder and windier. After what he guessed was about two hours, Celebros stood again and walked over to Legolas. He shook the Elf's shoulder softly. His eyes slowly opened and he stood. 'Is it time?' he aked quietly.  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said in an equally quiet tone.  
  
He went over and lay down, but he was restless. He heard no motion from Legolas, and the only sound was the wind blowing over the brown meadow. Eventually, sleep came.  
  
+++++  
  
The shape stooping over him was hard to make out; it was dull. It was still dark, Celebros realized, his mind foggy. The sun was not yet up.  
  
'Celebros!' Legolas whispered. 'Celebros! Wake up!'  
  
He woke up. Legolas was bent over him. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that it could not have been more than half an hour since he had woken Legolas up. The Elf helped him to his feet. 'Wha' is it?' Celebros muttered thickly.  
  
'Celebros, there is someone out there. Did you see anything when you were on your guard? Anything at all?'  
  
'No, it was all quiet. Almost too quiet. No birds, or squirrels, or anything. No, there was one... A raven, or a crow. I saw it fly overhead. It didn't make any sound, but that was the only living thing I saw.'  
  
Legolas' mouth twisted in a grimace. 'It would have to be a raven or a crow,' he sighed. 'Orcs and such foul creatures, they use those birds as spies sometimes. Have you heard of crebain?'  
  
'No,' Celebros said, bewildered. Birds as spies?  
  
'Are you certain it was not a sparrow, or a thrush? Those are used as messangers, sometimes, by the Men of Dale. Or a larger bird - a small hawk? I believe they are more widespread as messangers.'  
  
'That was no hawk, and no sparrow either,' Celebros said darkly.  
  
'This is not boding well,' Legolas said. 'That vile Galadon could be using them, or the orcs of the Grey Wood. We must be more careful. I shall ask the others in the morning. As for what I am sensing, it may be that such a bird, or more than one, might be watching from the trees. We must not speak of our journeys! We wouldn't want our enemies to get ideas that we would be foolish enough to attack them.'  
  
+++++  
  
In the next three days they saw a raven or hawk every night. On the fourth night there were three. And every night as the Elves watched, they got a feeling that there was something watching them. On the fifth day the feeling grew so much that in the morning both the Elves felt shaken and very uneasy.  
  
They were about two days from the edge of Eryn Lasgalen, where they would be seperating; Legolas and Gimli to the Elven king's halls, Celebros and Cundariel to Mount Gundabad and the surrounding area.  
  
Cundariel and Legolas spoke some at night, but not much during the days. The Elves were so uneasy that the stories, if there were any, were at luncheon or breakfast, and they were shorter than before. On the sixth day, Legolas sat up all night, rigid, and was in almost exactly the same position when Celebros woke up as he had been when he fell asleep. He stood alert with his face towards the rising sun, erect and sharp. He turned to Celebros as the boy rose to his feet, stretching and yawning.  
  
'I have not seen them, but I am certain they know where we are. We must press on. Once we separate you must be very careful. You must be on the watch all the time. We should reach the edge of the wood by evening tonight if we hurry, if we slow, by noon tomorrow. Myself, I am uncertain. It would be good to press on; we have need of haste, but staying together gives us more time to figure out what we are going to do and what paths to take.'  
  
'I should say we should wait,' Celebros said slowly, 'for one half-day would not make much difference. I don't know why we have need of such haste, but my heart agrees. A shadow waits, it is waiting, growing ever more foul. I do not know what.' He stopped abruptly; his voice had taken a dreamy edge. He looked as if he had just realized what he was saying.  
  
'We shall have to take a vote,' Legolas said. 'Wake the others! If we decide to press on we must do it quickly.'  
  
+++++  
  
Five minutes later, the four of them sat in a circle. Cele-bros had already posed to them the question.  
  
There was a long hush. Then Legolas spoke.  
  
'We will vote,' he said. 'Think on this a moment. If we wait, we have another night to plan, but also it will risk the enemy's watchful spies seeing out plans. Already we have planned some, but your way is harder, and Celebros does not know it well. Even for you, Cundariel, it will be hard to navigate. What say you?'  
  
There was another silence, then Celebros spoke. 'I should say that we should not go with haste, and plan today, while the sun is up, while we can see spies. Then we could travel at night, and separate and go our ways at dawn.'  
  
Cundariel shook her head. 'I say we ought to go on now. It is too big a risk, that he may hear our plans.'  
  
Legolas looked troubled when Celebros looked to him to vote. 'I am sorry, but I must agree with Cundariel. We cannot risk it. Gimli?'  
  
'I would say plan, as Celebros said, while we can see the foe,' he said. 'But then it will be a tie, and it will be called for someone to tiebreak. I apologize. Though it is not truly what I should wish, I will agree with the Elves. Let us press on. But first I should ask this: let us find a high place where we may plan for but a few minutes, to hear the routes we should go! Has anyone a map?'  
  
None of them had, but Cundariel and Legolas said that they could draw a map and scratch it out when they were finished. They mounted and rode in haste until, around noontime, they found, amidst the prarie-like fields, a tall rock formation that they could climb upon. The top was flat with some dirt and sand. They climbed up and hurridly the two Elves bent together to form a map while Celebros and Gimli got food ready; they could eat while planning for the few short minutes.  
  
Before long they had a map scratched out. 'It's rough,' Legolas said, 'and we missed some of the roads and places. We do not know them all. It is not fully accurate, but I think it will suffice.'  
  
Cundariel looked at the drawing. 'Celebros and I should cut through Eryn Lasgalen, and when we reach the old forest road, turn west and come out near the Old Ford. We cross the river there. We go towards the mountains and travel on along the east side. I have heard of goblin gates in the mountains, so therefore we shall have to avoid any gates or tunnels. When we near Mount Gundabad, we continue on slower, and try to sneak in and explore the halls. We are to chart them if we can. If they are guarded, we are not to do so unless we can disguise ourselves.' She sounded as if she was rehearsing something. It was what the King had told her, no doubt. 'We are to conceal our prescence as much as is possible, not killing anyone or letting anyone know who we are. We should steal outfits, if possible, from storerooms, and examine and follow their protocol as much as is possible.'  
  
Legolas nodded. 'As for us, we shall travel as much as we can along the border until we reach the old forest road, for until we are north of that I do not know the ways as well as I used. Then we can make a straight cut to my father's halls. Will you return along the same route?'  
  
'Who can say? It depends on what has happened. We will try, yes. But I could not say. If we have rescued any, my brother or others, we may be forced to skirt the woods. He may not be in condtion good enough for that sort of travel.'  
  
Legolas absently dumped some loose sand on the crude map and they continued on.  
  
They reached the edge of the wood as the sun set. Legolas turned to the rest. 'We have traveled far together. I hope that we may meet again. If you have hurt companions, you might try to send word to my father. He has skilled healers, and would send help. But it is a dangerous path. If you are short on time, do not try to cut through the forest! Continue on.  
  
'Farewell! Likely we shall return before you do by a few weeks, or at least several days. Be careful and quick!' Then he motioned to Gimli and they rode off into the trees. Cundariel stood still until they disappeared, then turned to Celebros.  
  
'Let us go on. We should find a good place to stop before the sun goes down.'  
  
They turned and started into the thick woods until the sun was gone and night was come, then stopped to sleep. When Celebros awoke in the morning, Cundariel was asleep.  
  
They traveled quickly that day. Celebros, having not only Elven-blood but also ranger-blood, was nearly as quick in the woods as Cundariel.  
  
The woods were much more friendly than they had been in Bilbo Baggins' day. The Wood-elves had cleansed it, ridding it of the giant spiders that had used to inhabit it, and making it a place of growth and green, instead of a dank, dark, unfriendly place. There was also more edible food and water to be found.  
  
'I should tell you something of Galadon,' Cundariel said to Celebros that evening, by the fireside. 'It is a long tale, but worth knowing, if we have a chance of meeting him. I hope we will not, but yet...'  
  
'I understand,' Celebros said quickly.  
  
'No,' she said sadly. 'One of our main problems is what you do not understand. If you understood what danger we were opposing, you would want to run like a dog chased by wolves.'  
  
'All right,' Celebros said slowly.  
  
She was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought. 'Galadon was born in 2116 of the Third Age. He is young, for an Elf, yet older than I. He is 953 years, and has long dark brown hair. He is tall, slender, and regal. There is a way about him,' -she hesitated- 'that makes you wish to obey him. He is very commanding, you would say. And in excellent shape. The thing you must be mainly wary of is his blade. He is a swordsmaster, Celebros, and few of our people are. The second level, if that means anything to you.'  
  
Celebros nodded.  
  
'Almost twenty-six years before my brother disappeared, which would be sixty years ago, Galadon would go into the Wilds more. Around once every month, he would leave for a few days. Then for a year before he left, he left only twice.  
  
'Then he left in the night. The watch saw him going, and started to follow him, but he turned, showed them who he was, and told them that he was leaving, and not to hinder him. They obeyed. Then four years later, my brother vanished. This was peculiar, and that night the guards had seen someone in the area. It did not look like something my brother would have done; he took nothing. We began to think he had been captured, and I drew the conclusion that it had been Galadon.  
  
'Galadon moved to the wilds of the north in the Second Age. I did not live there, but the rest of our family lived in this wood, in the Woodland Realm. It is said that when Galadon left, he went to Mount Gundabad, and there found orcs. I believe that he allied with these orcs, and gathered support-ers. Then he likely built a fortress into the mountain.  
  
'I have heard tell that other Elves have been taken, or those who have some Elven blood. I have no proof, but I have heard stories... We should sleep now. I will tell you more later.'  
  
The horses stamped their feet, and the wind rustled in the trees. A black raven sat among the leaves not ten feet from the Elf and the Man, but they were oblivious to all of this. They slept through the night. At dawn the bird flew away through the trees, going high into the sky without a sound, and headed north. Eventually the speck disappeared into the sky. The sun rose, and looked down on the forest innocently. And they slept on.  
  
+++++  
  
They awoke later than they had planned. Both of them had fallen asleep, so there had been no guard to tell if there had been spies the night before. However, with the sun shining merrily through the leaves when there was an open space, it did not worry them much. It seemed unlikely that an evil emmissary would like bright light, or would risk being seen.  
  
Celebros yawned. It was a warm day, although in some parts it was masked by a cool breeze. They would reach the Old Forest Road sooner than they had hoped if all went well.  
  
The following day, they were suddenly forced to make a choice. They could not ride the horses through the trees any longer. The forest was getting very much thicker. They could leave the horses, lead them, or skirt the edge of the forest.  
  
'We must decide which would delay us most,' Cundariel said. 'If we leave them now, it will slow us down far too much on the way back to the City, and we will need horses if we have any of those that Galadon took prisoner. Therefore, we must decide which will take longer. I think it would be best to skirt the edges, but my fear would tell me to stay hidden. What would you say?'  
  
Celebros yawned in answer, then was silent for a moment. 'I would say that we should go through the thinner part of the woods until we reach the road. It may be that it is only this part that is too thick to ride through: up ahead we may find we can go as we had planned.'  
  
Cundariel nodded musingly. 'That would work,' she said at length, 'and would suit our purposes. I agree.' She patted her horse's head. 'Let us continue.'  
  
Turning the horse, Celebros slowly began forward. Cundar-iel followed him. He had not gone five feet when he stopped abruptly.  
  
'What?' said Cundariel, who could not see what Celebros saw. Celebros glanced at her, then turned back forward. He moved deliberately aside slightly.  
  
An old man stood there. He was bent, and leaned on a worn old staff. His hair, white and wispy, was long. The wind did not seem to heed him; his clothing and hair were did not stir as Celebros' and Cundariel's did. He looked up at them with pale grey eyes that did not blink.  
  
'Hello,' he said after a long moment of silence. 'And how are you this day, Cundariel? It has been long since I have seen Elves in these parts.'  
  
Cundariel had opened her mouth to speak, but when he spoke her name she stood a moment, her mouth still open.  
  
'Good day, Celebros son of Caladin. A pity I will never meet your grandfather - a great Man. No, we have not met before.  
  
'My name is Glorhir. I -' -he paused a moment, searching for the right words. He wheezed a moment, then continued- '- yes, I see things. An oracle, you might call me. I see the future.'  
  
'An oracle?' Cundariel sounded suspicious.  
  
The old man wheezed, then sat down. 'Come, we should talk a while. Come down and sit.'  
  
Cautiously they dismounted and sat. He smiled, still coughing and wheezing, and looked at the two of them piercing-ly.  
  
'The one you seek is not yet dead,' he said quietly, 'and yet you may not save him if you are not quick. Quiet, child!'  
  
The spell of his slow speech was broken as Cundariel opened her mouth. At the man's sharp words she closed it slowly.  
  
'You will meet some who are hostile. They will not like it, if he leaves, and if you come, yet he must, and you will. He is skilled. You must not blame him for his faults.  
  
'Evil will come and go, and its going will not be welcome. Not the fault of any, yet the will of Eldurhir.' Cundariel knitted her eyebrows in sheer bewilderment, but Glorhir paid no heed. 'Many have been taken. You must not blame yourselves. Not all can be free, not yet.' Suddenly he broke into a fit of wheezing coughs. It died down slowly, leaving the old wandering oracle breathless. 'Blame, doubt, despair, lies, and fear are your obstacles; bravery, honesty, caution, hope, and loyalty your virtues. You are not blameless. There are things you will do to be ashamed of. Yet there are things you could not and should not stop. Do not blame yourselves for them!  
  
'There will be times when you should be afraid, but these are not the times meant. Doubt ever lurks, but in some cases doubt is a measure of caution. Do not doubt those who aid you, save those who do so for means of their own. You may be tempted to lie, but truth and honest must remain. Deception is wicked and will lead to worse things. But despair not! some things are meant to be. Remember this...' He began to cough again. Gazing with those endless grey caverns into Celebros' eyes.  
  
'I say to you: be vigilant constantly, and you will find what you search for and more.' He grasped his staff, pushed himself to his feet, then coughed once more and turned to the trees. He vanished into a thick patch of foliage, almost as if he had disappeared altogether.  
  
+++++  
  
The ravens came back to cluster round the stone. Tall it was, with a flat top and a sand-pit in the center.  
  
The wind they knew so well, the evil wind willed by their evil master, stirred the loose sand, blowing it away to reveal the heavier, wetter matter underneath. They hissed as they saw it, a foul sound that made one think more of orcs and goblins than ravens. They fixed the image in their corrupted minds, and with their enhanced senses and minds they perceived that their prey would split into two groups. As one, they rose into the air and flew north, a flurry of black.  
  
The black crow with grey tail feathers stood still by the sand bowl, gazing at the map. He thought condescendingly of the other foul birds of prey, and his primitive mind, though much stronger than theirs, sneered feebly at them. He rose in the air as the others had done and followed, and soon disappeared. To any watcher, he was soon but a shadow in the north.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros patted his horse on the head. 'Whoa, boy,' he muttered. The horse slowed and stopped, and Cundariel halted hers behind his. 'What is it?' she said, and sleep was apparent in even her voice, though she was obviously trying to mask it.  
  
'Too tired,' Celebros yawned despite his efforts. They had been traveling since the morning. 'We should stop.'  
  
'I'm not tired. We should continue a bit more. We may reach the road tomorrow.' Then she confirmed Celebros' suspicion that she, too, was tired, by giving a great yawn, then nearly falling off her horse.  
  
Celebros grinned drowsily. Cundariel sheepish grin was triumph enough. She gave something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, and Celebros laughed, then nearly followed her suit by just about falling off his horse. He jumped off it, wincing as he landed heavily on his left leg.  
  
'Ah! No, I'm all right, it just surprised me...'  
  
Cundariel wearily tied the horses. Celebros, still yawning so that it nearly split his face, threw himself to the ground and wrapped his cloak around him. He was asleep within a few minutes. Cundariel lay down and fell asleep too, if not quite as quickly.  
  
They awoke the next morning suddenly. A large cawing noise had startled them both out of sleep, but no bird was in sight. They paid it little heed.  
  
They continued on that day, and by nightfall, after stopping three times to rest, they had reached the road. It was dark and rough. A nightingale screeched its sleepy call, and all around signs of nocturnal life awoke. Owls, coons, foxes, and bats awoke and went hunting. A single crow sat in a tree near to the two. He did not make a sound, and did not stir, until first light broke the sky. His watch was done.  
  
And so was that of the one who watched him.  
  
+++++  
  
Cundariel sat up into the night, watching the foul bird. It apparently did not know it was being watched, but she did. All it was doing was making sure they didn't relocate, she knew, but nonetheless she did not want it watching. At dawn it flew away, not making a sound. They leaves parted as it touched them, but made no rustle or swish.  
  
Celebros awoke but a few minutes after the bird retreated. He saw her expression immediately. 'Wha' is it?' he groaned, stretching and sitting up.  
  
'We were watched,' she said softly, with a dangerous edge to her voice. 'A crow, all night.'  
  
Celebros shook his head. 'Again?' he said.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Are we moving on today? Going along the road?'  
  
'Of course. What else would we do?'  
  
Celebros shook his head again. 'I don't know,' he muttered. 'I'm tired. I just...I don't know.'  
  
'Shall we begin?'  
  
'Yes, I suppose.'  
  
They traveled along the road, although not all to quickly, for the entire morning. The leaves were a deep, dark green, but yet seemed friendly in this wood, on the road more than before.  
  
They stopped at noon for luncheon, and sat down against trees to eat it. Sparrows chirped their songs, but aside from that all was silent and still. Celebros lay back and shut his eyes, and Cundariel seemed much more at ease than she had since they had met Glorhir; she sat back aginst the tree, thinking. Suddenly she straightened and looked around.  
  
Celebros was resting, eyes closed, against the tree across from her. She had heard something, though. Standing slowly, she looked around again.  
  
The noise came a second time, and this time she knew precisely what it was; someone was bending a bowstring. She stood and picked up her own, funmbling for an arrow.  
  
Eight Elves stepped onto the road, each with bows bent. Four were aimed at Cundariel, four at Celebros. With the sound, the boy opened his eyes and froze.  
  
The tallest of the Elves, who had long golden hair and was pointing his bow at Cundairiel, spoke to her:  
  
'Why do you consort with this?' he said, indicating Celebros as if he were a slug. 'They kill our trees. They disrespect. They have no care for us or our culture. Why do you not travel with our kind?'  
  
Celebros licked his lips and made no move, but looked absolutely terrified. His face was white, his eyes huge and frightened, his body rigid. Cundariel gave him a glance. 'I consort with him,' she said calmly, 'because he is my friend, my compainion, and we have a mutual goal.'  
  
'It is a Man,' another Elf said with obvious disgust. 'Why would you want to be friends with one of its kind?'  
  
Cundariel brough up her head. 'Why do you aim your arrows at me?' she said softly. 'I am native to this wood. I live in the Woodland Realm, and by law anyone who travels with me or any of my kin is under the protection of the Realm. He who does hurt to a guest of the Realm will suffer Its wrath. Do you not know this?'  
  
'We have,' said the first Elf with a bite in his voice. 'We will take the Man. We will not harm him, but if you resist, girl, we will kill you both. We will take him until he is out of the area completely, likely to the south of the woods. You are free to go as you please, but you may not come with us. If you wish, you may go to our lord and discuss this with him. I care not.'  
  
'This is not right.' An Elf, apparently younger than the others, with the very unusual flame colored hair and hazel eyes, broke in. 'This is wrong. We do not want the wrath of Thranduil's folk on us. We should leave them, so long as they promise not to stray into the wood. Take them west. They will travel on the road. The rules cannot be followed to the word. Thranduil claimed this land long before our people -'  
  
'You know our law, Gwalas,' a fourth Elf cried to him. 'What must be done, will be. Shall we have the Man bound, Brethil?' he asked the first Elf.  
  
'Yes, bind him. I must speak to this one. Come here, girl,' Brethil said.  
  
Cundariel could only do as he bid. He drew her aside, and put his bow back. The three that had been guarding her, including Gwalas, turned to tie Celebros, who was still sitting motionless against the tree, a look of fear and horror on his face. He was pulled roughly to his feet and his arms were tied tightly behind his back. Gwalas looked angered, yet he did as he was told.  
  
'I am sorry if I have angered Thranduil, but I must do this. We are called the Galadil, and what we do, we do for the good of all Elves and for our forest, what there is left. I will leave you, and I beg you not to follow. You may find it again, once you get out of the woods.'  
  
They disappeared into the trees.  
  
Cundariel waited for a count of one hundred, then followed silently. The Galadil could not go on forever, and when they stopped, she would have them...  
  
+++++  
  
Cundariel ducked behind a tree quickly as the guard turned to look her way. If they saw her, Celebros was as good as dead.  
  
The dim light from the firepit flickered shadows across the guard's face. She looked cautiously out from behind the tree. The guard's face was turned away, glancing at the figure on the ground that was Celebros. They had given him food and drink, and he had gone immediately to sleep. Cundariel suspected that they had drugged him, but he could just be tired. They had not mistreated him in any way save capturing him, and tying his hands, that she knew of. She had followed fairly close behind, and very quietly; (this was a skill that the Galadil did not seem to have), and left the horses tied about a mile or so away.  
  
There were two guards watching while the rest slept. Gwalas had stayed awake longer than the others until they had told him to get to sleep. Brethil had fallen asleep first.  
  
After a time, the guards woke Brethil and the one who had spoken fourth to guard. Brethil was silent and stood rigid, but the other looked around warily. He seemed to sense that someone was near, but said nothing. After about two hours, Brethil shifted, made some sort of a motion to the other, and they woke Gwalas and one of the Elves who had not spoken.  
  
Cundariel noticed Gwalas' quick glance to the trees, but if he saw her or guessed she was there, he showed no sign. He merely turned and began pacing the site. The other did the same.  
  
Around half an hour after Brethil and the other fell asleep, Celebros stirred and woke with a groan. The other Elf, not Gwalas, walked over to him with disgust and gave him a nudge with his foot. 'You had better sleep, little one. We will be travel farther in the morning.' Celebros did not look up, but gave another groan, his eyes afraid, and the Elf laughed disdainfully.  
  
'Tell me, have you ever felled a tree, Man?' He managed to make 'Man' sound like 'dog'.  
  
Celebros gave a small sound, like a whimper, but said nothing, staring with hateful eyes at the Elves. He looked into the trees, straight in the direction Cundariel was, but apparently did not see her. The Elf grimaced and glared at the boy, his eyes narrowed.  
  
'Answer me, child!'  
  
'Stop!' Gwalas said suddenly, striding forward, making the other Elf turn around and snarl at him. 'The Rules say we do not treat Men as equals. He is a child, Aearos. Leave him. We do not interfere. We cannot risk open war.'  
  
'Yet, Gwalas. Yet. They are talking of it, and you know it. And still - he is a Man,' the other Elf said dangerously. 'He is vermin. His kind fell our trees without need. They are filthy, Gwalas, and you of all people -'  
  
'I of all people ought to know that making other beings fear for their lives and safety is unjust and not right. And you of all people ought to know that bad things happen when you anger Thranduil. Boy, who are you?'  
  
Celebros swallowed, still looking petrified. 'Relax, boy,' Gwalas said softly. Celebros looked at him, and slowly the panic faded from his eyes. He took a couple deep breaths, then said softly, 'You wouldn't believe me.'  
  
'I would,' Gwalas said quietly. 'Would you?' he asked, turning to the other Elf.  
  
'I suppose,' he said grudgingly. 'You will be reported if you interfere much more, Gwalas.'  
  
They looked at Celebros. 'My name is Celebros Telcontar. My grandfather is - Honestly, you won't believe me,' he said, quickly looking at Gwalas.  
  
'Who is your grandfather? I will believe you if you say he is the King of the Reunited Kingdoms, boy. Honestly, I will.' Celebros laughed. 'He is,' he said quietly.  
  
'Now honestly!' the other Elf burst out. 'This is ridi-culous! What would the grandson of Elessar Telcontar be traveling without any more escort than a Elf-maiden!'  
  
'That is a rather good question,' Gwalas said quietly, 'but it is his own business. I said I would believe him, and I do. Celebros, eh?'  
  
'Yes. Silver-rain, isn't that what it means?'  
  
'Indeed. Now, boy -'  
  
'Gwalas, you forget yourself. This is a prisoner.'  
  
'He is harmless. What hurt can it do? Why should I not talk to him?'  
  
'Because he is a Man.' This Elf did not seem to have the contempt the others had, for him it was a simple statement of fact. 'We are not supposed to treat Men as equals, Gwalas, and you really ought to know that.'  
  
'I know that that is what the Rules say,' Gwalas said softly, his hazel eyes calm. 'That is what they say, but that is not what I say.'  
  
'The Rules do not say 'do as you see fit', Gwalas. We are supposed to follow the Rules as they are set out.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because those who came before us set them out for our good.'  
  
'I see,' Gwalas said softly. 'For our good, but not for the good of anyone else? We are the only ones that matter, and all other life is forfeit, because of what they are or are not? Is that what the Rules imply, Aearos? That other life does not matter, it is irrelevant? Elbereth, the blindness of our people. Eldir breaks every rule, but of course, it's for our people's good, so everything's fine and well and good. Brethil obeys even if he should not. It's that bloody competition that started all this! It's their bloody pig-headedness. Brethil obeys the rules regardless, Eldir breaks them regardless, neither gets into trouble, both are looked down upon.' He quieted even more, glancing at Brethil. 'Remembered when he took Halos' half-Man son into custody and whined when the Council reprimanded him? "But, Councillors, the Rules say 'any Man or half-Man on the territory is to be brought immediately to Headquarters'. They say so!" He disgusts me. And so do you, sometimes.'  
  
The other Elf, Aearos, sat still for a moment. Then he said softly, as if pleading, 'I do not know, Gwalas, but we must follow the rules. What will happen if we do not? We will be killed for sure!'  
  
'Then you let me break them. I think it is wrong to bind this boy so. Celebros is not of age yet, and they did not know they were not supposed to be here. He was with one of Thranduil's folk, and he is the heir to a king. We release him or risk war declared by they who we think of attacking. Let him go, I say, and I will go with him.'  
  
'But then I would be blamed for not stopping you, Gwalas. I would be put out. I see sense in your words, but I have no desire to put aside what I have worked so hard at all my years. I do not know.'  
  
'I could knock you down, and it would look like the Elf had done it, and taken the boy and I. I could try to find her - she probably followed - I think she is near -'  
  
Cundariel deliberately shifted loudly. Two heads snapped around, and Gwalas laughed. 'Come along now!' he said. 'Quietly! Your people have better skill at hiding, I see.'  
  
She stepped into the clearing. Celebros was still sitting, apparently struggling to stay awake. She shot him a quick glance.  
  
'They drugged him,' Aearos said. 'I don't know how much. Gwalas, I think this is a bad idea. Have her take the boy and knock us both senseless.'  
  
'I have no desire to be knocked over the head without need. I have waited far long enough to leave the ways. I hope you will too someday, Aearos.'  
  
'Goodbye, then, I suppose,' Aearos said sadly.  
  
Cundariel pulled off the rope tying Celebros' wrists and helped him to his feet. 'I'll catch up,' Gwalas said softly and quickly.  
  
Cundariel pulled Celebros along; he was stumbling sleepily. From behind them there was a thump, and Gwalas hurried up behind them. 'What is your name?' he asked her quietly.  
  
'Cundariel.'  
  
'Where are you going? I do not know when I have last seen a Man his age in Greenwoood the Great.'  
  
'He is who he is. We are headed to Mount Gundabad to rescue my brother and as many others as we can from -'  
  
Gwalas' face wrinkled in disgust. 'I know whom you speak of,' he said. 'Speak not the name! The Eldurhir'rim are many.'  
  
'I'm afraid that again, I am given a name I do not know. Who are the Eldurhir'rim?'  
  
'People of the Lord of Dark Elves. His supporters. Where are we going?'  
  
'To get the horses.'  
  
'I do not have one, but I know where I can obtain one. There are several near the Sirrim's home. Naiads. Stream folk; they live in or around water. They used to carry a lull around them: no predators would approach. There are many creatures there still.'  
  
'There is no lull around them any longer?'  
  
Gwalas gave her a queer look from under his high eyebrows. 'We shall see. We - the Galadil do not approach the place. Most of them do not. Perhaps we can stay there for the night. I will run. Show me where the horses are. We must hurry. We can be out of the woods in an hour at most, and it will be another half hour until we reach the Sirrim's homes.'  
  
'Very well.'  
  
The horses were still and silent when the three reached them about twenty minutes later. Cundariel patted her horse's nose, and it whinneyed affectionately. It made no other move.  
  
Celebros leaned against one of the tall trees, nearly asleep on his feet. 'Do you know what they gave him?' Cundariel asked quietly.  
  
'Probably durthond,' Gwalas said uncertainly. 'It is merely a herb for sleep if swallowed, but if it is given an open wound, it gives a very high fever, swelling, and causes several other unpleasant side effects. And if taken by mouth but overdosed, it does the same. If given too much, it will kill. It is fairly harmless through mouth, though, if they gave him the correct amount. They do not overdose...first-timers. It will wear off completely in a few days. Until then he may be a bit tired or clumsy. I don't have any goldroot; it doesn't grow in these parts. Farther south, perhaps. It is not very effective in many cases. Durthond is very common here.' It seemed that Gwalas was very learned in herblore. He sounded like he had spent much time studying it.  
  
'What was your...function...with the Galadil?'  
  
'I healed, when necessary; I have better eyes than most, so I spied and guarded. I scouted. Once I was caught spying and the ones who caught me punished me for it. Then my leader punished me for being so clumsy. I do not spy much anymore. I would heal, as I said, and watch, and fight if necessary. I would search for food. My function was basic. The need of a people is more urgent than the need of a person, as Brethil always told me.' His mouth twisted in distaste.  
  
'My younger brother was taken and killed by a group of renegade orcs several years ago. I wanted to go avenge him, and Brethil would quote that verse, over and over, until I gave up.'  
  
'What was his name?'  
  
'Methel,' Gwalas said, and smiled distantly.  
  
Cundariel nodded, then mounted. Suddenly a thought struck her.  
  
'I don't think he can ride himself. He's practically asleep now. Celebros!' The boy moved a bit, but did not look up. 'See? Could you possibly ride with him? It will be quicker in any case.'  
  
'Certainly.'  
  
He helped the boy onto the horse and they rode off into the night. Eventually the sound of the horses' hooves died away from that place, and all was silent once more.  
  
+++++  
  
After an hour, the ride, through which Celebros had faded in between conciousness and sleep, they reached a small stream. 'Stop,' Gwalas whispered, bringing the horse to a sudden, silent halt. Cundariel did the same, a trifle louder.  
  
There was no sign of inhabitance that Cundariel could see. She had never met a naiad, and had never expected to.  
  
Indeed, as Gwalas had said, there were several kinds of animals in the area. Including a horse, luckily. It looked at them as they rode up, then settled its head down again.  
  
A sudden ripple, and a small splash, issued from the glassy surface of the pool. A small being, about the height of a Halfling or Dwarf, surfaced. In the darkness, Cundariel could not make out what it looked like.  
  
'Hello, Sirgil. I greet you.'  
  
'Hello, Gwalas. I greet you. What news? Who have you brought with you?' With her keen sight Cundariel thought the creature was squinting. The moon was nearly full, but at the moment there was a cloud dimming it.  
  
'These are Celebros, of Minas Tirith, and Cundariel. I have done as you long ago suggested, Sirgil. Celebros was taken captive by the Galadil for tresspassing, and I have renounced the ways. He, only a young one! It was not easy work, I tell you. But we seek only shelter for the night. May we camp on your shores?'  
  
'Certainly.'  
  
'Thank you,' Gwalas said, and even as he did so, Sirgil dove back into the water. 'They do not much like to talk. They used to be a merry people, but -' Gwalas gave a sad sigh, and fell silent a moment.  
  
'Yes?' Cundariel asked.  
  
'The Aearguth,' Gwalas said sadly. 'A battle. The People of the Sea fought the Sea Battle against the Stream-folk. It used to be peaceful, here, but the People of the Sea - the Aearrim - were warlike. The Sirrim, they used to live farther north, and once a year they would go to the Sea. The People of the Sea disliked this, and tried to drive them out. The Sirrim fought, and won, but they hadn't wanted to, and found then that going to the Sea brought back painful memories of what was no longer, and could never again be. They seldom leave, now, and do not like to talk with outsiders. It is said that they were once the same race, bound to the water, bound to peace.' There was little more talk. They dismounted over by the animals, who moved away slightly, apparently unafraid but merely not wanting to get in the way. There was a little trouble with Celebros; he did not seem aware at all. However, once he got off, he immediately lay down and fell asleep. Gwalas covered him with a light blanket.  
  
The clouds moved aside to reveal a bright moon. Its rays flooding over Cundariel's face, she fell asleep quickly. But Gwalas did not. He sat awake, gazing at the rippling form of the moon reflected in the river. Although Cundariel slept quietly, the younger Man did not. He turned over and muttered to himself, as was usual when drugged with sleeping herbs. After a long time, a shadow passed across the moon, and Gwalas turned and lay down and slept.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros yawned and opened his eyes.  
  
Bright light shone in his eyes. The Sun was out. He covered his eyes with his sleeve and stood up. A wind ruffled his hair.  
  
Cundariel and Gwalas were still asleep. This was unusual, for it was certainly near ten in the morning. There was no sign of any other life near them except three horses grazing a hundred yards away.  
  
There were his, and Cundariel's, Rohiriel, and the third was a wild one. No doubt for Gwalas to use.  
  
Cundariel stirred and opened her eyes drowsily. 'Good morning,' she said, stifling a yawn. 'How are you?'  
  
'Fine.'  
  
'We should wake Gwalas up. He wanted to talk breifly to the Sirrim and get a fairly early start.'  
  
'That won't be possible now,' Celebros said, shading his eyes and looking at the sun.  
  
'Then we had better get going as soon as possible.' It was Gwalas. He had, apparently, finally woken.  
  
Celebros raised his head, nodding. 'I'll get the horses,' he said. Cundariel noticed how clumsy he was doing so, nothing at all like he generally was, but that was just the after-effects of the durthond. He would be fine in a day or so, as Gwalas had said.  
  
Celebros noticed her looking at him and grinned sheepishly. She shook her head and moved over to help him with the ropes.  
  
Gwalas turned to the stream, as if expecting something, and suddenly five Sirrim surfaced and swam toward him. Celebros patted his horse on the nose and walked over next to the Elf, and Cundariel came up behind them.  
  
'Will you be leaving immediately?' one of them asked quickly.  
  
'We must,' Gwalas answered, subdued.  
  
'We do not see the need for haste. But perhaps you have not told us everything. If this is so, there is reason. Go well and in peace, and may your paths bring you no sorrow. Instead let happiness and good fortune dominate your road.'  
  
It seemed to Celebros that this was some sort of ceremony. Each of the Sirrim murmered the last sentence, then they swam away. Gwalas motioned to Celebros and Cundariel to come to the horses, and they followed him silently. He waited until the Sirrim were out of sight to mount, and then he explained, 'After the Sirrim say their ceremonial rites, they believe that no word should be spoken afterward.'  
  
Celebros shook his head. It all sounded like nonsense to him. They mounted and rode away slowly. His head ached a bit, which was strange, but it blocked out the memories of the night before.  
  
Cundariel eventually asked Gwalas where they were going. The red-haired Elf had gotten ahead of them by a bit, so her voice was loud and Celebros' head pounded.  
  
'We're going to Methnan,' Gwalas called back, slowing his horse so that they could catch up. 'The Last Valley, to Minas Methith. A small valley, and unnatural - it's not near a major river or any highlands, it is just like a bowl in the ground. The King is Tarmamethnan. Some of them are Elves, and almost all are partly Elven, but their current King is not. I have heard -' He broke off suddenly, and he flushed. 'In any case, he will be able to give us information on the movements of Galadon, if he is indeed at Mount Gundabad.'  
  
+++++  
  
The wind died down suddenly, and Gwalas motioned ahead. 'We're coming up on the Minas Methith. Tower of the Last Mist. The capital of this valley; although there are no other cities. Small villages, yes. Farms.'  
  
'How large is Methnan?' Celebros asked wearily.  
  
'We entered it two days after we left the Sirrim,' Gwalas said, 'so this is our second afternoon in Methnan. We're almost on the border. I'd say forty miles by perhaps twenty. We've been traveling fairly slow; but it's only a guess. We've gone around thirty-five miles, and slow, short hours. And the city is about five miles from the border. Then to Mount Gundabad...it's still several days.'  
  
Cundariel glanced around again. She hadn't spoken much since they had entered Methnan. Celebros guessed that she had been admiring the land, for the valley was beautiful, amazingly so. She trailed behind slightly, silent and watchful.  
  
'We'll be coming up on the gates soon,' Gwalas said quietly. 'The Methnan'rim ask many questions, but they are a peaceful people. Answer honestly, and we will have no trouble.'  
  
Celebros nodded. Cundariel made no move, so it was difficult to tell what she thought about it, but Celebros was sure she had heard. She never missed so much as a mouse's squeak or the buzz of a fly.  
  
They approached the gates slowly. They were tall and majestic; and towering over them were majestic towers and buildings inside the city. Celebros got the impression suddenly that he was very small indeed - although Minas Tirith was much larger, he had not been in the City for weeks. As they rode up, five men came forward. Silently they halted in front of the three travelers, who dismounted. The men's eyes moved over them.  
  
'Strangers,' one of the guards said quietly, 'who are you and why have you come?'  
  
'I am Cundariel,' the tall elf said, not looking at the men but instead patting her horse.  
  
'My name is Gwalas Windleaf.'  
  
In the fashion of the City, Celebros touched his forhead lightly and brought his hand to his chest. 'I am Celebros Telcontar. We are travelers on our way through the area, in search of news of Galadon of the North, and wish permission to enter the city.'  
  
'Strange is your speech,' one of the guardsman said, 'and we guess that you come from the city of Minas Tirith far to the south, Celebros Telcontar. Is this so?'  
  
'Indeed it is,' Celebros said quietly.  
  
'News we have of Galadon whom you speak of, who we call Eldurhir. Dark is all the word we get of him, and any tidings would be welcome. What is your errand?'  
  
Cundariel spoke now. 'We go to free prisoners from him, if we can, and to spy as best we can for the King Elessar.'  
  
The men withdrew a moment and spoke in hushed voices. Then the one who had first spoken said, 'Indeed if this is done our people will be glad, for Tarmamethnan our king has a daughter taken by Eldurhir. The gates will be opened in a moment.'  
  
Gwalas glanced at Celebros and nodded. After a moment, the great doors opened.  
  
Inside them, the city was revealed to be a place of splendor as well. The tall towers in the center were not the only things of majesty. Even the simplest houses were surrounded by flowers, some made of wood and others of fine stonework. As they got nearer to the center of the city the quiet greens became busy, lively marketplaces and entertainers in the streets, which eventually gave way to stables. Gwalas kept looking around at everything, making Celebros get the notion that the Elf had seldom, if ever, been in a large city.  
  
Celebros chose a stable; it looked better than some and the horses within it were well fed, their stalls well-cleaned and fresh straw within. A small man at the back with only a few teeth and about as many hairs as he had teeth grinned and took the horses, accepting the small silver coin from Celebros with another smile. Silent, Celebros and his friends made their way toward the innermost part of Minas Methith.  
  
+++++  
  
'My lord,' the aide called through the crack in the magnificent oaken doors, 'my lord, there are three outsiders here, and they wish an audience with Your Majesty.'  
  
'Can it wait?' a soft voice said from within; soft but regal and royal at the same time.  
  
'Can it wait?' the smiling man repeated to Celebros.  
  
'I'm afraid it cannot. We have news in regard to Galadon, your Eldurhir, brought from the King Elessar of Gondor and the West. We have heard that a princess of Methnan has been taken by him -'  
  
The aide's face paled to a shade of white as light as was poosible at the name of Eldurhir. The soft voice from inside suddenly said sharply, 'Let them in, Elos.'  
  
The three outsiders walked slowly into the room. On the throne in the large hall sat a middle-aged Man. Tall, he had gloomy green eyes and light brown hair. He had the look of a King, indeed; regal and majestic, but it was as if a shadow had blanketed him. Celebros touched his forehead as he had at the gates, and placing it on his chest and bowing he said, 'Your Majesty, I am Celebros Telcontar of Gondor, and these are Cundariel of Eryn Lasgalen and Gwalas. Was my information correct, lord, that a princess of your kingdom of Methnan had been kidnapped by Eldurhir -?'  
  
'The eldest princess of Methnan,' the King sighed gloomily, gently. 'Aeargil, my beloved daughter, my star. Yes. A year ago, she was taken. Information would be greatly appreciated, but although we know where Eldurhir is, we dare not attack. He has a power beyond us. I want my daughter back, but I begin to wonder if it ever will be my fate to look on her again, to behold my star's sweet, dear face.'  
  
Celebros was silent a moment. Then he said quietly, 'Our task was not, in fact, to inform you of the danger, although of course we will. We are on our way to rescue prisoners from Galadon. And we are going to spy as well. Have hope; you may yet see your daughter.'  
  
Tarmamethnan's generally downcast face rose, and as he stared at the three determined-looking figures, his mouth curved into a smile that had not been seen in Methnan for almost a year. 'Tell me more,' he said quietly.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros lay awake on the covorlet. The night was hot, but that was not why he was waking. In the room next to his was Gwalas, and Cundariel was across the hall. They had talked little during dinner, and servants had shown them the rooms that Tarmamethnan had granted them. On the third floor, and the quarters reserved for guests were very comfortable, except it was hot.  
  
Over and over he turned thoughts restlessly in his mind; like tumbling dice, but try as he might he could not sleep. Instead he started to think about Galadon and what they had learned from Tarmamethnan.  
  
Galadon was malicious. He kidnapped for no reason, and would abuse the prisoners cruelly, but not to the point of death. He would keep them alive and imprisoned for years, unless they starved themselves to death. He had a fortress, vast as a city, built into the side of Mount Gundabad. It was rumored that there were treasures he kept there that he found on his captives; one partcularly strong rumor was that he had the Mirdon, a jewelled stone of great magnificence and value, that he had taken from an Elven-prince. The Mirdon was supposed to be magical, a Valar-made artifact, but Tarmamethnan did not know what its powers were.  
  
Nor did he know what else Galadon had in the depths of Mount Gundabad, if indeed he had anything. All Tarmamethnan knew was hearsay, of course, for he had never been to Eldurhir's fortress, or met him.  
  
Celebros' face was sweating as he thought of what he had heard of Galadon. He had a strange certainty that he was going to meet Galadon, but that was ludicrous. All they were going to do was spy, and rescue prisoners if they could -  
  
- so what if they were caught? What would Galadon do to them? Would he kill them, or simply keep them imprisoned for thirty years, torturing them when he felt like it? Why were they going to do this? And how?  
  
The boy shivered, despite the heat, despite the fact it was so hot he was sweating. How was he ever able to believe he wanted to do this?  
  
+++++  
  
The light was shining in the closed window when a knock came on Celebros' door. He was curled in an armchair, its high back facing the door, and didn't feel like getting up - 'Come in,' he said.  
  
Gwalas opened the door hesitantly and walked in. 'Good morning, Celebros,' he said.  
  
Celebros shook his head. Gwalas walked over and sat down in the empty chair next to the boy's.  
  
'Did you sleep at all?' the Elf asked.  
  
Celebros shook his head again, and curled his knees up to his chest, staring blankly out the window at the valley. Gwalas shook his head too, 'That's not good for you. Why not?'  
  
Still silent, Celebros shrugged. Gwalas smiled wryly, looking at the ceiling, and Celebros glanced at him, realizing suddenly that the Elf was trying not to laugh.  
  
'You going to come eat? There's some good food here; we might as well eat it while we can.'  
  
Celebros glanced at him again. 'Yes. I'll be there in a bit.'  
  
'Listen,' said Gwalas, looking around as if expecting someone to jump out, then fixing his eyes on Celebros' drawn face, 'are you worried about Galadon?'  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Well, I suppose I am too, but we really can't worry about that now, about what he - yes. We need to come up with a plan of what to do when we reach the fortress -'  
  
'Where's Cundariel?'  
  
A strange expression flickered across Gwalas' face, and he muttered, 'She's out in the city. I don't know why.'  
  
Celebros turned back to the window, and Gwalas stood up and walked out of the room. A moment later, there was another knock. 'Come in,' Celebros said once more, and heard the door open. He looked around; a handsome man in silver-blue garment was standing there.  
  
'Good day,' the man said pleasantly, 'my name is Lorgan; I am the son of Tarmamethnan. You are Celebros?'  
  
Celebros nodded, standing up slowly. 'I am,' he said uncertainly.  
  
'My father sent me to ask if you would like a tour of our city.'  
  
'That would be nice, I am sure, but...'  
  
'Is there a problem, Celebros? I can always come back later,' Lorgan said hastily, sounding worried. 'I hope I have not interrupted anything.'  
  
'No, but I was planning to meet Gwalas in a few minutes... but I would very much like a tour, if it could be arranged... this noon?'  
  
'That sounds feasible. Shall I meet you here?'  
  
'Certainly. How long will it take?'  
  
'Well,' Lorgan said, smiling, 'I was planning to show you the main city, which would take an hour, and then -' His smile broadened. 'We have a place in the woods, a ten-minute ride from here. In the forest; a beautiful place. Ronduial, the Hall of Twilight. Were we attacked, that would be our defense post.'  
  
'All right.'  
  
Lorgan nodded and smiled. 'I will see you at noontime,' he said, and strode out of the room.  
  
Celebros, after a few minutes, left the room and hurried down the hallway. It was not by any means crowded as it would have been in the City; he only met four people in the three-minute walk to the dining hall. Gwalas was there, talking to one of the servants avidly, and they both looked up when Celebros came in. The servant smiled and nodded to Gwalas and Celebros came and sat down next to him. 'Can I get you something, young sir?' he asked.  
  
Celebros shrugged. 'Whatever is usual,' he said quietly, and the man glanced at Gwalas.  
  
'The same,' the Elf said. Then he turned to Celebros and waited until the servant's footsteps receded. 'Did you think of anything during the night?' he whispered, obviously not keen to be heard.  
  
'Many things, and each ending worse than the last.'  
  
'What happens in the best of them?'  
  
'We get caught and set loose before even reaching the fortress, and are guarded all the way south.'  
  
Gwalas made a sound of displeasure. 'That would not do.' 'I hadn't guessed,' Celebros said dryly. 'I can't see any way to do this.'  
  
'How does this sound - We find some soldiers and take their uniforms and find out everything we need to know from them, then make our way into the fortress disguised.'  
  
'So what do we do with the soldiers?'  
  
'Well, I was leaving that up to you and Cundariel. I've figured it out that far.'  
  
'And how do we know we won't get caught? What if they know all the guards?'  
  
'They won't.'  
  
'Someone has to know the ones we'd use. Friends, workers, relatives -'  
  
'I get your point. So that won't work. What about -' Gwalas was suddenly cut off as the servant returned, set their meals down in front of them, and left again.  
  
Celebros looked at the meal. Fried ham and eggs, thick slices of bread spread with honey, bacon, some sort of red berry, and apple nectar juice. 'This is normal?' he asked incredulously.  
  
'They treat their guests well,' Gwalas said, inspecting the berry.  
  
'What is that?' Celebros asked, picking up one himself.  
  
'A cherry. Don't you have them in the south?'  
  
'Never seen one before. Or tasted...'  
  
'You have to be careful when you eat them, there are -' Gwalas sighed as Celebros choked on the pit.  
  
'- seeds in the middle,' Gwalas finished dryly. Celebros pulled the pit out of his mouth and set it on the side of the plate.  
  
'They taste good,' Celebros said. Gwalas nodded, his mouth full of peppered ham.  
  
There was scattered conversation over the rest of the meal, mostly remarks about the food. The servant came in and removed their plates when they were done, and Celebros and Gwalas discussed strategy until Cundariel came in.  
  
'Morning, Cundariel,' Celebros said.  
  
'It's almost afternoon,' Cundariel said.  
  
'Oh,' Celebros smiled, 'I'm supposed to meet Prince Lorgan for a tour or something at noon.'  
  
'You'd better hurry then. It's about ten minutes until then.'  
  
'All right...' Celebros hurried out of the room.  
  
The room was quiet, and the paper he had left on the table by the window had blown onto the floor from a breeze blowing through the open window. Celebros sighed and picked the paper up, not looking at it as he set it back on the table. Then he glanced back at it, for he didn't remember the symbol at the bottom. He knew he hadn't written it there.  
  
It was in a curling hand, much hastier than his own account covering the rest of the page. Like an S-rune, only more stretched horizontally, and with a slash through the center either way and odd curves at the top, like rays from the sun were generally drawn. He stared at it a moment, then heard the creak of the door behind him and turned. It was Lorgan, looking in at him and smiling. 'Ready?' he asked. Then his grin faded into a mystified expression. 'Something wrong?'  
  
'It's just...nothing. I had an account I was writing, and when I came in just now there was a symbol at the bottom that I've never seen. I know I didn't write it.'  
  
Lorgan's eyes narrowed. 'No one should have been here, unless it was one of the servants, and they're not supposed to alter anything, just clean or change sheets or close the windows if it's cold. Can I see it? I don't know what runes you know; it might be some form of Old Elven, or...'  
  
Celebros handed him the paper. Lorgan's jaw almost dropped, and he blinked, then traced the lines with his finger. As if his worst fear had been confirmed, he closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly.  
  
'What is it?' Celebros asked.  
  
'This is the symbol we found when -' His voice wavered a moment, and he steadied it and continued. '- when my sister was taken. It's Eldurhir's mark.'  
  
'How was she taken?'  
  
Lorgan sighed heavily. 'I still can't believe it,' he said quietly, then began slowly. As he talked, he motioned Celebros out of the room. 'Bring it,' he said, indicating the scroll. 'About a year ago, in the dead of the night at about half after one, six men dressed as minor nobles came into the palace by way of the kitchen slops enterance. Not all of them came in, some of them were lookouts. One man drugged Aeargil and carried her out the same way. Another guarded them. They met up with the others at a respectable tavern two blocks away, where they had a carriage. One stayed behind in the tavern to make sure no suspicion was aroused.  
  
'They drove to an isolated section of the outer wall. Two of them waited with the carriage and my sister and set up a grappling hook on the wall. One of the two went over immediately and secured their postion. One waited still. Two men went each way.  
  
'Our guards go about in groups of two at the bottom of the inner part of the wall. When they met the filthy kidnappers, they saw only two nobles complaining of a robbery. The guards turned their backs and were slaughtered like cows at butcher-time. When the first pair of men returned after ridding themselves of our guards, one waited at the bottom, one at the top, and the third lashed Aeargil to him and carried her over. The second pair went over the wall and took the ropes with them.  
  
'The man who waited was a local. He returned the carriage to its original position, met up with the man who had stayed at the inn to tell him all had gone well, and fled the city before dawn and ruckus came. They had five horses two miles outside.  
  
'We caught the man who stayed at the inn. He gave us this information and killed himself in the cell we locked him in. The important thing is, the symbol he wore was the one on the paper, and the one we found etched over Aeargil's empty bed the next morning. Thus we know that that is Eldurhir's symbol. Or Galadon, whatever you want to call him.'  
  
They reached the oak doors of the King's audience room. Quickly Lorgan pushed the doors open and strode in. Tarmamethnan was talking to an important-looking nobleman. He looked up sharply at the interruption. 'Excuse me, lord Tahir,' he muttered to the man, who nodded briskly and walked out of the room. 'Lorgan? What is the meaning of this? Lord Tahir is an important noble, and I have need to speak with him.' Now the King's voice was sharp.  
  
'This,' Lorgan said, motioning Celebros forward.  
  
'This, Your Majesty,' Celebros told him, shaking the paper open. Tarmamethnan's eyes widened at the sign scrawled boldly on the parchment. Lorgan nodded and explained more to his father.  
  
'When Celebros entered his room this morning, he found this written on his paper. Nothing he wrote, of course. We have another worry, father. One of them is here. He must be a servant, to have gotten into a guest's chambers unnoticed -'  
  
'Or another guest,' Celebros said, his eyes narrowed in thought. Lorgan gave a start at this.  
  
'No,' he whispered. 'Not -'  
  
'Tahir,' the King breathed. 'He is from the North, after all. And he seems to work for someone -'  
  
'It could be pure coincidence.' Lorgan's voice was unsteady.  
  
The King shook his head. 'No, now that I consider it - how blind of me! He has been here when - bad things have happened. I shall have him detained. Elos!'  
  
The doorwarden's head appeared in the doorway. 'Yes, Your Highness?'  
  
'Please take care that Tahir is caught and detained immediately.'  
  
'Tahir, Your Highness?!'  
  
'Yes, Elos, immediately! Hurry!'  
  
'Yes, Your Highness! Immediately!' The man hastily shut the door and the sound of quick footsteps echoed away down the hall.  
  
'Action must be taken. Lorgan, round up your brothers and Tarrilas and Silmarien. Celebros, if you would fetch your friends and bring them here -'  
  
'Of course, Your Majesty,' Celebros said, hurrying out himself. Lorgan took another door into the quarters of the royal family.  
  
With sharp and sudden certainty, Celebros felt a surge of fear and a quick, fluttering feeling of dread. He turned...there was nothing and no one. A misty blanket of uncertainty fell over him, blocking out the sun. He moved automatically, paying no attention to where he was going. They knew nothing of the power Galadon must have gained, nothing of where and how many his minions were. They didn't know what he was capable of or what he was after.  
  
The door of the dining hall was open partially, and the servant who had served them breakfast was cleaning up.  
  
'They went to Gwalas' rooms, I believe. Talking something about strategy...sounded quite confusing if you ask me...do you know what they were talking about, young master? Something about a fortress and an elf- lord, and Lady Cundariel's brother, I believe.'  
  
'I'm not quite sure,' Celebros lied. 'Thank you, though.'  
  
Bowing and rushing on about how it was his pleasure, the man watched Celebros hurry out of the room.  
  
The hallways were nearly empty, and the boy could not help but think of the time that Tahir had had to strike. He must have seen the parchment. He must have known that they would discover him. Would he escape? Would he take action?  
  
Gwalas' rooms were empty...he knocked on Cundariel's door and there was no answer...there was a noise from inside, soft but definite. Glancing around the hallway and seeing no one, Celebros pushed open the door. It remained open, as did his mouth at what he saw.  
  
Standing no more than two feet in front of him was Tahir, his mouth curved into a hard-edged, satisfied smile. In the corner of the room was Cundariel, lying on her back on the floor, unconcious. There was no sign of Gwalas in this room; perhaps he was in the other...  
  
Celebros' breath was faster than it had been, but Tahir's was normal and calm. An edge of fear snuck into the man's eyes, and Celebros saw it. Purposely he slowed his breathing to normal and slid his hand to his sword hilt at his side. The sliver of fear made Tahir's mouth twitch, and the bite of arrogance shown in his jutted jaw vanished.  
  
'You,' Tahir said, his voice rough with disbelief and frusteration.  
  
'Why?' Celebros grated as coldly as he could manage, trying to make the tremor in his voice sound as if it was from anger instead of terror. Like a cold blade was sliding across his throat, he constrained his breath as much as he could and clenched his teeth.  
  
'Because there is no other way to meet my ends.'  
  
'Galadon's ends, you mean.' His fury was becoming more sincere.  
  
'Galadon's ends, then. My master's goals are mine also. Together with his forces my master will destroy the race of men and the fools who call themselves Elves, and we will rule. I shall be a lord of more than you can imagine! I will be honored beyond anything you have ever conceived.'  
  
Celebros' eyes fell on Cundariel. The hall was still empty, and the only sounds were the breaths that Celebros and Tahir were taking. If Cundariel was still alive, he could not hear her breathing. 'What have you done to her?' he asked, forcing his voice to be calm and composed, as if he didn't care.  
  
Tahir's smile faded slightly, but the fragment of fear did not, although he masked it well. 'Do you really want to know?'  
  
Furious, Celebros didn't answer. 'You have to know you'll be caught. They are coming for you now, and they will find you.'  
  
'Not if I can help it!' The nervousness was blanketed by determination, and Celebros felt himself gasp as something hit the back of his head. Blinking hot scarlet out of his eyes, he felt a second blow. And then - nothing.  
  
+++++  
  
'Gone?' Anger and shock reigned in Tarmamethnan's face. 'Both of them?'  
  
'We found the Lady Cundariel unconcious, Your Majesty. She was confused, like. And Gwalas as well. They don't remember.' Elos sounded quite bewildered.  
  
'But no sign of Celebros?'  
  
'None, sir.'  
  
A sharp hiss of frustration issued from the king's mouth, and he sat down on the throne, biting his lip. 'They must be found! The King Elessar will be most displeased of this turn of events. I will have to send him a raven, of course... Arrange a search. They must be found immediately!'  
  
'A search has already been organized, Your Majesty.'  
  
'Good...were there any clues? As to the time, and such...?'  
  
'No, Your Majesty, there were none. Except... Gwalas was bleeding from the head, Your Majesty, and the blood had not spread enough for it to have been more than thirty minutes since they were knocked unconcious.'  
  
'I expect that he went directly there, knowing we would suspect him of...and then Celebros found him, and he overpowered the boy...but where could he have taken him, without being found?'  
  
Elos' eyes narrowed. 'Your Majesty, if I may speak?'  
  
'Certainly, Elos.'  
  
'My liege, if he were to take the servants' passage, and to go to the dungeons...'  
  
'To the dungeons...organize a search there immediately.'  
  
'And my liege, something else...'  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'What if he took the boy out of the city?'  
  
The King's face grew very sober. 'Then we all might as well give up hope.'  
  
+++++  
  
Gwalas' head ached dully, the edges of his vision not quite clearly defined. Blood on his cheek had dried, but the slash on the back of his head throbbed with a constant fire. He glanced at the second watchman beside him, nodding wordlessly to the left passage and heading himself to the right.  
  
The stone walls were rough and badly shaped; obviously not done by skilled smiths and made in haste, and the iron bars clamped over the cell doorways were not in good condition. One of them was rusted all the way through in the center. There were untidy runes in some of the cell walls, and a bloodstain on the floor in one.  
  
The dungeons were empty; they had been cleared out years before, and had never been even near to full. Some of the bars were swung back, and hairs pricked on Gwalas' scalp, for he thought he heard faint whispers from some musty, empty cells. Many prisoners had died here, most by their own hands.  
  
There was nothing down his passage, and nothing down the other's. They passed another group in the hall; three guardsmen, but they shook their heads. No luck.  
  
Gwalas closed his eyes breifly. The other man stopped and waited for him a moment, looking slightly worried. 'Are you all right?' he whispered.  
  
'I'm fine...' It was a lie, and the man probably knew that, but he nodded. They came to another intersection and split up. Gwalas' torch nearly snuffed out, for the air was stale, but there was nothing. Touching the wound on the back of his head gently, he turned and headed back. The faint whispering pursued him, and he shuddered despite himself. Surely just a shadow of his imagination, nothing more. Still, gooseflesh was creeping down his arms.  
  
They searched their last assigned path, and came back to report to the king. His eyes were solomn, and as he spoke to them he tied a scroll onto a messagebird's foot and threw him out of an opened window. The sun cast shadows across the room; it was three o' clock at least.  
  
'Has there been any word at all, Your Highness?' Gwalas asked desperately.  
  
'None,' Tarmamethnan said heavily, watching the bird's flight until it vanished. 'None at all, my friend. The area we are searching is vast, and I have everyone from my sons to kitchen servants searching the city top to bottom. I do not know what to think. The guards do not remember him passing.'  
  
'He could have had help. He could be hiding in one of the civilians' homes.'  
  
'Even they will be searched if we do not find him before.' The King sighed, his eyes closed, and it revealed suddenly how old he was. A shadow of memory passed across his face, and he turned fully away from the window and sat down on the throne. 'You may go,' he said quietly, his eyes like emeralds and his light brown hair untidy. The nobility was gone from his face in an instant, and he slumped in his chair. 'You...may go...'  
  
Gwalas and the guard turned quickly and hurried out of the room. The halls were almost empty, but Gwalas knew that when they neared his room there would be men looking for hints and clues that were not there...Tahir had been too careful. The guard split off into a different direction, to search more. It made Gwalas feel guilty; Celebros was his friend, but others were more eager, more determined to find him. He was little more than a boy.  
  
He avoided his rooms.  
  
Cundariel was in the garden. She glanced up as he approached, then resumed her previous position, her head in her hands. He sat down on the bench next to her, looking at the trees. Taunting them, the sun shone bright in the cloudless sky.  
  
'Do you remember - what happened?' she asked, her voice muffled.  
  
'Nothing. At all. There was no sound, no movement that I remember detecting.'  
  
'I thought I heard something fall.'  
  
'Me, maybe. It doesn't matter.'  
  
'What if I had reacted, turned around? What if I had seen him and -'  
  
'You didn't, and you can't change that. It's done with. It's not like we were expecting it.'  
  
'It's not done with,' Cundariel whispered. 'Not yet...'  
  
+++++  
  
Tahir glanced back at the boy. Celebros was facedown on the cold stone, sprawled there like a dead animal. Blood blossomed on his face, not touching his hair but dripping onto the floor.  
  
The boy stirred and began to come back to his senses, groaning. His hand twitched, and his eyes snapped open in alarm. He stared at Tahir a moment, then scrambled to his feet. Instinctively his hand moved to his belt, where his sword should be but wasn't.  
  
'Looking for this?' Tahir asked airly, lifting the sword belt from the floor. Celebros' eyes darted around the room; it was clearly unused and below ground level, dank, musty, dingy, dark but for a torch of rotting wood. There were chairs and a table with two broken legs propped against the wall and shards of pottery littering the floor. 'It looks nice. Do you use it often?'  
  
'Get your filthy hands off of it,' Celebros snarled, not looking at the man. Instead he glanced at the high ceiling. A rope from the corner reached up to a trapdoor. There was no other way out. Gingerly he touched his forehead where it bled, and glanced at Tahir. Far from setting the blade down, he drew it partway out of the scabbard. 'Fine workmanship. Your grandfather gave it to you, I expect...?'  
  
'My uncle,' Celebros said through gritted teeth. The thought of Eldarion, of home, was more painful than the cut on his forehead. Shallow. It would heal quickly; it would not scar.  
  
'And now before I return to my master to report you out of the way there are a few things I must do. You may be able to help me.'  
  
'I won't.'  
  
'Is that so?' Tahir sounded unconcerned. Not cocky, precisely. His dark green eyes glittered like emeralds, and he stared at the ceiling, at the trapdoor, just as Celebros had. 'First I have to dispose of those friends of yours. Then I have to cover my tracks. They are searching for you, of course, but this place hasn't been used in over a century. It's hidden. They may never find you, but if they do it will be too late. I'll be gone, and you'll have been dead or senseless for some time, as will your friends.'  
  
Surprisingly, Celebros' first thought was not fear of dying. It was disappointment. Failure...panic was not a thought. He knew he should be frightened. He knew he should be terrified. He was afraid for Gwalas and Cundariel, but...  
  
'Really?' he said.  
  
Tahir smirked. 'Do you doubt it?'  
  
Celebros shrugged. Tahir's face in the light of the flickering torch closed suddenly, and he shook his curly straw-colored hair out of his face. For a fleeting second they were equals, and then Tahir's authority, as he saw it, took over.  
  
'Well, it doesn't matter what you believe. I have a job to do. Come here, now.'  
  
Celebros ignored him, pretending he had not heard or not caring. One of his legs shook a bit; he knew he was not strong enough to run, to climb, and Tahir had his sword belt. He had sheathed it again, and now he threw it to the ground. 'Come here,' he said icily, kicking the belt. It slid against the wall and stopped. Celebros glanced up again, breifly, then looked calmly at Tahir.  
  
'Come here. Now!'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I can inflict a great deal of damage on those friends of yours before I kill them. I can make them die screaming and no one will catch me. Or I can do it silently, so that they never know what hit them. It is your choice.'  
  
Celebros' cool mask slipped and he abandoned it. For an instant, painful indecision...then realization...he strode forward and stood before Tahir stiffly, his teeth clenched. He did not meet the man's hard stare.  
  
'I've found your weak spot...stupid of you, boy. I can toy with you as a cat does a mouse, now. If I didn't like doing it so much, I wouldn't even have to torture you for information.' His unpleasant smile taunted Celebros. 'I threaten your friends, you do what I tell you to do. Do you think I would rather extract information from you, or them? They are Elves... they are strong-minded far beyond us...they would never tell me what I want.' Celebros had slowly looked up with these words. Now he looking for an instant at Tahir's face, but could not meet the stare. He dropped his gaze again.  
  
'Yes. You can see my will. You know I am stronger than you. Will you give me the information willingly, or will I have to use my own ways?'  
  
Tahir cupped a hand roughly under Celebros' chin and forced him to meet his eyes. 'I will die before I give information to your master,' Celebros said, his voice cold bared steel. Tahir made as if to take a step back. But he stopped himself in time. 'And you will as well.'  
  
Tahir looked at him, hiding surprise. 'Did you know this place is soundproof? Airtight, too. My master's reach is spreading, boy. He will destroy your home, he will kill your family. He will rule, because he is more powerful than you, or I, or any that live.'  
  
'Do you recognize the name Sauron?' Celebros asked suddenly. Tahir's eyes narrowed. 'Your master was nothing compared to Sauron, and Sauron feared what my grandfather has become. Do you honestly think that Galadon is stronger than Sauron? Do you think he is fearless? You are wrong.'  
  
'Is that so?' But he was thinking about what Celebros had said. His hand clamped suddenly on the boy's throat, and Celebros gasped, or tried to. His mouth worked, his eyes unfocused...Tahir let go and Celebros dropped to the floor. Tahir dragged a chair over and pushed the boy into it. He cut off several feet of the rope from the trapdoor, enough so that it could not be reached. He tied Celebros to the chair.  
  
'There,' Tahir laughed softly, 'now you can find out how long a human lasts without food or water. Now you can find out how long it takes before you go mad and die.'  
  
Celebros did not hear him, nor did he see Tahir pull the other chair underneath the rope and climb up, hooking the chair with his foot so that it, too, disappeared through the trapdoor.  
  
+++++  
  
'No leads yet? Nothing suspicious?'  
  
'No, Your Majesty.'  
  
'Very well. Continue the search...'  
  
'Your Majesty, if I may speak...?'  
  
'Certainly, Elos.'  
  
'Sir, it has been more than a day. Surely he is gone by now. There have been no sightings, and he could not have gotten food unless he had it stored somewhere. Everything is under watch.'  
  
'Elos, it is not finding Tahir I am worried about any longer. It is finding the boy. I recieved a message back from King Elessar this morning, and he can do nothing, but begged us continue the search. If Tahir is not gone he will target Cundariel and Gwalas next. There are orc-raids in the south now. Evil is stirring everywhere.'  
  
'Indeed, Your Majesty.'  
  
'How are the other two?'  
  
'They haven't slept, Your Majesty, nor eaten. They've been searching along with the rest, but without break.'  
  
'Yes...if you find anything suspicious, anything at all, report it immediately.'  
  
'Yes, Your Majesty, of course. Good day.'  
  
+++++  
  
It had taken a long time for Celebros to puzzle out the solution, or part solution, to the situation. He wondered instantly when he figured it out whether Tahir had done it on purpose, as a test, of sorts.  
  
He was by this time ravenously hungry and thirsty, and there was still the problem with the trapdoor. He didn't know how Tahir had gotten out, but the other chair was missing and the rope drawn up.  
  
He tipped the chair backward and broke one of the legs, then using the sharp edge to cut his ropes, but collapsed to the floor when he tried to stand. He guessed it had been about a day since Tahir had taken him; he had been completely unable to sleep with the ropes digging cruelly into his wrists, but he must have fallen asleep on the floor there, for when he opened his eyes again the torch was nearly out; only a spark remained. He sat up slowly, blinded suddenly as color tinted his vision. After it had passed, he repeatedly threw the broken chair leg at the trapdoor, but it was too thick for it to be heard above. He tried to throw the entire chair, but it was too heavy and he too tired and weak. His throat burned; he needed water.  
  
He wondered how long he would last down here. Alone in the chamber, Celebros watched the torch go out. Now it was dark, and he could not see the trapdoor. He wondered if Tahir had told the truth. Was the room airtight?  
  
If it was, then he was dead.  
  
+++++  
  
'Your Majesty!' Elos' voice was breathless and excited. 'Your Majesty, we've found something suspicious, in the lower level, where the floor is of wood. I think you should see this.'  
  
+++++  
  
The searchers parted for Tarmamethnan. 'Here, Your Majesty,' Elos said, pointing. The King's eyes widened. There was no change in the floor, but at one point light footprints appeared from nowhere. Elos looked up; there was no loft, and the marks did not look as if they were from someone who had jumped.  
  
'And it sounds hollow. We've heard nothing from in there, my lord,' one of the searchers added.  
  
'It could be a trap.' Gwalas apppeared at the back of the crowd, Cundariel right behind him.  
  
'Surely he'd be more careful than this,' Gwalas continued, 'unless he meant us to find it. Or - if he was in a hurry?'  
  
'What kind of trap are you thinking of, Gwalas?' Elos asked curiously.  
  
'I'm not sure.'  
  
'Well, it doesn't look like we have much of a choice. The boy could be injured, and he's been without food and water,' the King said grimly. 'We have to open it. If there is any chance Celebros is in there, alive or - not... we have to open it.'  
  
Gwalas came forward and ran his fingers over the floor. 'Here,' he muttered. 'All right. It's heavy.' He gripped in the cracks and pulled up.  
  
It was a trapdoor, sure enough, and the inside was dark. They couldn't see the floor with the dim light that was coming through. 'Does anyone have a torch?' Gwalas asked. A minute passed, and he was given one. He shone it into the hole, and silence spread over the searchers and the King. Cundariel drew in her breath.  
  
On the floor, against the wall, was a still form. Right under the trapdoor it was slumped. It was Celebros.  
  
It was a long drop down, but Gwalas jumped it, landing crouched with a wince. 'Are you all right?' Elos called.  
  
'I landed on my ankle badly, but it'll be fine.' He limped over to Celebros and stood frozen a moment. 'He's alive,' the elf pronounced at last, and there was a collective sigh. 'He's unconcious; the air is bad in here. Looks like he was tied to the chair; there's a frayed rope on it. He must have cut it with this.' He indicated the broken chair leg near Celebros' foot. 'Can someone lower a rope?'  
  
Gwalas knelt by the boy and shook his shoulder gently. 'Celebros,' he whispered, 'Celebros...' His eyes opened slowly, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but fell almost immediately back into unconciousness.  
  
+++++  
  
The King surveyed the boy over the tips of his fingers. 'Do you have any idea where Tahir went?'  
  
Celebros shook his head. 'He said he was going to kill Cundariel and Gwalas,' he said slightly unsteadily, 'and report back to his master, so I assume he would go immediately to Mount Gundabad, but as he didn't kill either of them, I'm not sure whether he was telling the truth in regard to that either.'  
  
'Yes, of course. How do you feel?'  
  
'Much better, thank you, Your Majesty.'  
  
'That is good. Tell me, are you and the others still going to go on?'  
  
Celebros looked surprised. 'Of course,' he said quickly. 'Nothing has changed.'  
  
'You have seen what could happen; what they are capable of. He was easy on you. I expect he will be punished, likely killed, when Galadon discovers you are alive. And as for your friends, they were under guard to prevent him from taking any more action than he already had.'  
  
'It doesn't matter. We still have to go on. We don't have much of a choice. The task must not fail. He knows we are after his information and trying to free prisoners now. We will not get another chance.'  
  
'You are right. When will you go?'  
  
'As soon as possible; we have delayed too much already.'  
  
'You weren't well.'  
  
'Begging your pardon, sir, but I'm not sure we should have come here at all.'  
  
'Understood, although now you know more. You know about my daughter.'  
  
'We didn't know we would learn anything. It was a gamble, and I've paid the price.'  
  
'I know,' the King sighed, 'and I know it may be for nothing even now...she may be dead. But there didn't seem to be a reason for taking her.'  
  
'Maybe she was bait. But you weren't fool enough to pass that by.'  
  
'Or I was fool enough not to send anyone to even scout out the area. Elbereth take that...that...'  
  
'You know very well,' Celebros said softly, 'that anyone sent to scout out the area would never come back. You have done all you could, and no more could be asked of you.'  
  
'You're right, of course,' Tarmamethnan said after a while, 'but I wish I had been more careful in the first place. I wish -' He had made a fist, but stared at it for a moment and lowered it. 'No. How soon will you leave?'  
  
'Tonight, I suppose,' Celebros sighed. 'We have to hurry on. But I wish myself I knew something more about what they were planning. I should have stalled Tahir longer, found out more.'  
  
'Don't berate yourself. You can't hold yourself accountable for any of this mess. Tonight? Again, you're right. I'm afraid that since we prefer to stay in the city, little of our food aside from army rations is nonperishable. But Elbereth save me, we'll do what we can. I doubt I'll be seeing you in person again, Celebros son of Caladin. I can offer no refuge once you have freed the prisoners. I'm also afraid that we will not be capable to heal anyone who is injured...these are difficult times indeed, when friends cannot help friends.' He laughed bitterly. 'I'm sorry I cannot do more. If you do find my daughter, she may need treatment more than what we can offer here. She may not even be safe here...could she go to your City, if she wanted to?' Celebros nodded. 'Good. Tell your grandfather that we are with him, if ever he needs help.'  
  
'Thank you very much, sir.'  
  
Celebros turned to exit the chamber. The king sighed, and as the boy reached the door, whispered, 'Good luck.'  
  
If Celebros heard him, he showed no sign.  
  
+++++  
  
They traveled away from Minas Methhith for days. There was no sign of human life for miles outside the border. The night they passed the last border was dead and quiet but for the rare sounds of animals. It appeared to be scarcer of life the nearer they got to Mount Gundabad.  
  
It rained one morning, and after it stopped they tried in vain to detect the sound of a bird or a squirrel, or even the buzz of a bee. There was no sound. There were no animals, no insects, nothing. Not even crows or ravens flew overhead. They were alone.  
  
Gwalas, Cundariel, and Celebros stopped late that night. Their food supply was running low, so Cundariel went out to find some food.  
  
Celebros sat miserably on the hard ground, waiting for her to come back. He was tired, and cold, and hungry, and it would be a while until he was warm, active, and filled. He sat to wait, but Gwalas stood, pacing impatiently.  
  
He turned suddenly to Celebros. 'Have you ever had a feeling something was going to happen, and you don't know what?' Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on. 'I have had a fear lurking in my heart, in my mind, for a time now, but I don't know what it is! It is angering, Celebros, angering! Something is going to happen.' His voice sank, and as it did, he did, he sat slowly down. 'Something is happening. Right now.'  
  
'What could be happening now?'  
  
Immediately Celebros saw the ignorance fo his question. He leapt to his feet, but Gwalas shook his head and motioned him to sit again.  
  
'I don't know for sure, boy. I sense it, I feel it, I hear it, Elbereth, I even smell it! But I cannot say I am sure, and I would not want you running yourself into the ground, into the woods, on an unsure. I have never been - I was never as good as the other Galadil at sensing danger, or the presence of a tr- of a man.' He almost flushed; almost. He was still uncomfortably aware that he was not fully adjusted to not using Galadil terms.  
  
They waited for a while. Celebros' eyes became heavy, and he tried to force them open. Even Gwalas' head was nodding. It would be nice, he decided, just to rest a while. Just rest...  
  
+++++  
  
'Celebros!'  
  
The voice came from nowhere, and everywhere. It was faint and distant, it filled his head.  
  
'Celebros!'  
  
He opened his eyes. Gwalas was standing over him, his face twisted with urgency, with fear and worry. 'She's not back yet,' Gwalas said. 'We have to follow her prints. Hurry!'  
  
Celebros, yawning, pushed himself immediately to his feet. His stomach growled angrily, and blackness dotted his vision for a moment.  
  
He hurried off into the trees after Gwalas. The Elf was not far ahead. His fiery hair was unkempt, and for once he seemed not to care.  
  
'Her prints are light,' Gwalas muttered as he approached, not looking up. 'I might not be able to follow them. Do not to spoil them! I may have to backtrack.'  
  
'All right,' Celebros said.  
  
In silence they went on for some time. But before they had been going half an hour, they came across a sign. Gwalas looked intently at the spot, and the various footprints of the people who had been there.  
  
'If I read this right,' he said quietly, 'then there were three people in this clearing. Cundariel, and two others; one Elf and one Man. They were waiting, or guarding; their prints are deep, so they stood in one place for a long time. Unless they jumped down from the tree. Cundariel saw them, and backed away. Then the footprints are mingled, but a fight broke out. I cannot say for sure, but I believe that she was hit and knocked out. Yes, anyway, they overcame her.' It amazed Cele-bros how steady his voice was. 'They overcame her, and either she was knocked out or she knocked one of them. Or - yes. Well, there are two set of footprints leading away, and they are carrying soemone. One way or the other, she has been taken.' He glanced up at last.  
  
'These prints are no more than nine hours old, I think. That means they have a great start on us. We must hasten back. We have an advantage. We have horses. But then we may miss the prints. However, they could not have traveled all night. They could perhaps have traveled two hours on foot last night, but they may have obtained horses then and traveled the rest of the night then. Let us hurry! We must follow as we can.'  
  
It was quicker work to reach the site of their camp again, and there they had a devastating discovery: there were footprints in the site, and the horses were gone.  
  
The bags were untouched, left precisely as Celebros had left them. Gwalas came into the site and looked around, then his shoulders slumped and he closed his hazel eyes. He remained that way for a time, then opened them and looked around.  
  
'The footprints of two men,' he said softly. 'They are wearing heavy boots. They head out directly into the woods; doubtless meeting up with a path soon. The trees are too thick. We must run. Hurry!'  
  
He hoisted his pack, hurried around the clearing picking up the assorted items lying about, cast some dirt over the place where their small fire had been, and moved away into the trees, motioning for Celebros to follow.  
  
It was not long before they came to a place where, as Gwalas had predicted, they intersected a path. And here the men had been met by three others, one of them struggling and limping badly...the pieces were coming together. Gwalas bent to the ground a moment to examine the tracks, then stood.  
  
'They rode the horses from here,' he said. 'I am afraid we have no hope of catching up to them before they reach Mount Gundabad.'  
  
Celebros' heart sank. 'Do they want us to follow? They had time enough to mask their tracks.'  
  
'Do we have a choice?' It was a growl, and Celebros stepped back. 'Do we really have a choice? It was where we were going in the first place. Do we turn around and leave her?'  
  
'No!' Celebros said fiercely. 'No! We have to keep going!'  
  
'I know, boy. Let's hurry. Let's go.'  
  
'Wait! What do we do when we get there? Walk in and try to free the prisoners without anyone noticing? We have to get some uniforms, so at least we can hide for a while.'  
  
'How?'  
  
'Well, we have to sneak in unnoticed somehow. We need to get the uniforms of some outer sentries, and...they cannot come back to the fortress.'  
  
'Your logic is impeccable,' Gwalas said, with perhaps a hint of sarcasm. 'All right. Where do we find these sentries?'  
  
'I would guess that we entered his land yesterday morning, or fully entered it. How far apart did you post sentries as a Galadil?'  
  
'Two miles. Almost. They would pace, back and forth, covering the border. It was hard to predict how to get between them. But we don't want to, do we? We just want to find them.'  
  
'They'll find us.' Celebros' voice was confident.  
  
+++++  
  
'Hey! Over there! Hey there, who are you?'  
  
'Who cares who they are? Get them!'  
  
The first sentry started to obey, faltering slightly at the confident look on Celebros' face, and the grimace on Gwalas'. The second didn't hesitate, and Gwalas leapt at him, pulling his only knife out and hitting the blade out of the Elven sentry's, who obviously didn't really know how to deal with them.  
  
The second backed away, but too slowly. Celebros was onto him like a fox on a hare, and before long the unsuspecting sentries were unconcious with broken blades. Their attire, as planned, was untouched.  
  
Gwalas growled in disgust and pulled on one of the blue robes over his other clothing. Celebros did the same. 'Now what do we do with them?' the boy asked. 'I guess my logic was flawed. The other sentries will find them, whether we leave them or kill them. I had thought of bringing them and putting them in cells of their own, but I don't know procedure for bringing prisoners in, we might have to face Galadon, and Elbereth knows what could happen then. And if we do kill them,' his stomach twisted, 'we don't have time to hide the bodies.'  
  
'We'll have to leave them.' Gwalas' voice was rough and grim. 'Not kill them, I think. They'll look like prisoners if anyone finds them. There must not be a standard for garb except wearing these,' he pulled irratably at the robe, 'look, they're wearing completely different things.'  
  
'All right,' Celebros said slowly. 'Come on. Let's go.'  
  
+++++  
  
The two Eldurhir'rim in front of them nodded their heads to the gate-guards to the fortress. 'Is the watch complete?' a guard asked.  
  
'We're not guards,' the Eldurhir'rim in front of the other growled. 'We're here to report an incident.'  
  
'Aye?' the guard asked. 'Report away, then.'  
  
'There are two spies headed this way. The one that was taken most recently - His Lordship's cousin - they want her. We're just supposed to report that to all the gates. Do you understand? Anyone coming around out of uniform is to be taken to Deep and questioned.' Celebros hid a smile.  
  
'Aye,' the gate-guard replied. 'Message understood. Orders will be carried out.'  
  
The two Eldurhir'rim hurried away. Gwalas stepped forward. 'Is the watch complete?' the other guard asked in a hoarse rasp.  
  
'We've found the two spies. They're in the woods, out cold.'  
  
'Coordinates?'  
  
'Uncertain. They gave us quite a chase.'  
  
'Aye. Which way?'  
  
Gwalas pointed.  
  
'Good. We'll send out a team. You go tell the twos to get to his Lordship with that news, hear?'  
  
'Aye, sir.'  
  
They hurried down the corridor. From the gates one man shouted, 'Ones, we have a situation. Into the woods, that way!'  
  
'All right,' Celebros muttered. 'Should we tell the Twos, or skip it?'  
  
'Tell them...Unless he has a Seeing Stone, he has no idea what we look like.'  
  
A door next to them opened, and four men emerged and walked to the gate. Celebros heard the first one say, 'One Team reporting, sir. Permission to exit?'  
  
Gwalas opened the door. 'Are the twos in here?' he asked briskly. Four men stood quickly and bowed. 'Of course, sir. Are you new?'  
  
'No questions,' the second man said. 'Do we have a situation, sir?'  
  
'Aye - tell His Lordship they're going to get the spies now from the forest. They were knocked unconcious. Hurry, now.'  
  
The four men bowed and hurried down another hallway and out of sight.  
  
Celebros turned to Gwalas. 'Now what?'  
  
+++++  
  
The fortress was enormous. They talked to people, servants, and were told the following:  
  
The fortress took up most of the inside of the mountain and some underground beneath the forest. There were twelve entrances; one main, four lesser, seven hidden or secret. The inside was riddled with hidden passages, too; most of them were very well-known and Celebros and Gwalas, in their five days there, got extremely annoyed. Whenever they asked for direc-tions, it was 'Through the portrait of Eldenbar the Fifth, up the stairway concealed behind the false broom closet next to the kitchen, down that hallway, left twice. Then turn the left hand on the suit of armor near the armory to the right like a doorknob, and it'll swing out. The fifteenth hall of cells is to the right from there. Can't miss it.'  
  
Then, on the fifth day, they overheard a conversation. They had found out where Cundariel was being kept.  
  
+++++  
  
They hurried silently down the hallway. Finally, they reached the door of the first cell on the right. Gwalas opened the door gently.  
  
The figure on the opposite side of the tiny room rose its head slowly. Cloaked in a hooded black robe, the face was completely covored. It was not Cundariel, that much was certain.  
  
A hoarse voice broke the sudden silence.  
  
'Who are you?'  
  
It sounded pained, as if it was a great effort to speak. The voice was certainly male. Half-uncertainly Gwalas stepped forward.  
  
'I am Gwalas Windleaf,' he said quietly. 'We come to rescue those who we can from of Galadon. Are you strong enough to join us? Should we return when we have found the others?'  
  
The figure drew back his hood. He was beyond any doubt part elf, but part Man as well. He had light brown hair that reached his shoulders and dim grey eyes. Scars crossed his face.  
  
'I am Rilhir,' the man said at last. 'I was once the Lord of Flame, second commander of the Eldurhir'rim. But I was ashamed of the things I did. I tried to usurp Galadon to bring right to the land, and he overcame me. I have renounced the ways of the Eldurhir'rim now, and I will come with you.' It was immediately obvious to Celebros that Rilhir had been a man of strict protocal at some point in time. He also could see that the man was trustworthy. Something told him he liked Rilhir's way of things.  
  
He stood slowly, and they saw that he had a sash woven of fine blue silk. He touched it.  
  
'It was the symbol of my pride. Galadon has made it the symbol of my defeat. It is to be a mark of shame. He knows anyone who sees it knows that I once was powerful. It shows that he can defeat the great.'  
  
He walked forward steadily, with a slight limp in his left leg.  
  
'Is the one you search new here?'  
  
'She was captured five days ago.'  
  
Rilhir nodded with a grim smile. 'I have been a captive three years. There is one here who has been here thirty. He does not speak any longer. He stopped speaking after seventeen years. He was a strong one.'  
  
Gwalas gave Celebros a small nod. They helped Rilhir slightly until they reached the next door. Rilhir paused. 'Wait,' he said slowly.  
  
He put his ear to the door. 'We cannot enter this one,' he whispered.  
  
Gwalas looked as if he was about to protest, but Rilhir looked at him sharply. 'Unless, of course, you want to bring the entire Guard onto us and stand in Deep for seven days of constant torture.'  
  
Gwalas nodded with a sigh. They continued on to the next door. Gwalas hesitated, then opened the room.  
  
Another hooded figure was in there, curled into a ball in the corner. A few strands of long blond hair strayed out of the robe. It was Cundariel. She looked up dimly, and as she saw who it was tried to get to her feet, pulling the hood off, but stumbled. Whether or not she had been in here only five days, she seemed in worse condition than Rilhir. Celebros groaned, and Gwalas hurried forward to help her.  
  
'You came,' she whispered, struggling to pull off her hood. Her robe was tied with a simple white band. 'I hoped... He said you wouldn't.'  
  
She finally suceeded in getting the hood off. Celebros gasped, and Rilhir hissed softly. Gwalas muttered a curse, surprising Celebros.  
  
Her face was marked with several weals and a nasty cut that crossed her lower jaw and split her lip. Her eyes were pained but hopeful. 'This is Rilhir,' Gwalas said quietly.  
  
Rilhir bowed his head. 'They told me you have been here five days,' he sais suddenly to Cundariel. 'What have you done, you three? How could he hate you this much?'  
  
'I am his cousin. I defied him, and denied him inform-ation. For this, he said, he would...' she trailed off, apparently not wanting to remember, but she looked at Celebros.  
  
'We're fine,' he assured her. 'But you?'  
  
'I cannot run, yet,' she said with a shadow of a shadow of a smile. 'Have you found him?' Rilhir glanced, puzzled, at Gwalas and Celebros.  
  
'Her brother Tasarian,' Gwalas said to Rilhir. 'No,' he told Cundariel.  
  
Rilhir's eyes widened at Gwalas' words. 'I know where we can find him,' he said quietly. 'Is he your brother? I'm sorry.' He strode off a bit quicker than he had before, looking at the doors ponderingly. After a moment he turned back to them.  
  
'Are we searching for anyone else in particular? Most of the prisoners, you see, are too afraid to attempt escape, or too injured, or too senseless to move,' he said at length.  
  
Gwalas nodded. 'The King of Methnan said his daughter Aeargil had been taken.' He tore his eyes from Cundariel and looked around.  
  
'This one,' Rilhir said with certainty. 'I saw her, once - after I was imprisoned, of course.'  
  
Gwalas put his ear to the door and nodded.  
  
Rilhir added, 'Tasarian's room is much farther and deeper. Remember how long he has been here. His is locked. We will have to find a way to break that one. He tried to escape, many times.'  
  
Gwalas swung open the door. It creaked a bit. Within was a slim and beautiful young woman, also half elven half Man, her hood drawn back already. She looked tired, but her face was not marred by scars as the others' were. It seemed that Galadon had nothing against her. She had straight golden hair that reached to her shoulders and sad blue-green eyes, like the sea after a storm.  
  
Her eyes widened as she saw them. 'The prisoners -' she gasped. 'Are you -? Can you -?'  
  
'We are taking you away from here,' Gwalas said gently. 'Are you Aeargil of Methnan?'  
  
'I am,' she said, standing. 'I see you know of me. Have you been to Methnan? Are my people well? My father and brothers?'  
  
'They are,' Celebros said. 'We've got to hurry.'  
  
She nodded, and strode slowly towards them.  
  
'Do you know where they keep Tasarian?' Rilhir asked.  
  
'I know the section,' she said slowly. 'We will have to go into the mountain-tunnels, if you wish to free him. He is deep. He - Galadon said he does not speak any longer.'  
  
Cundariel set her lips in determination.  
  
They followed Aeargil and Rilhir as quickly as possible. Celebros tried to remember the turns: right, right, straight, right, but he lost track. It seemed they were going gradually downward, and after a while they came to a place where the walls were of a different kind of stone. They had truly entered the mountain.  
  
After nearly fifteen minutes of hurried walking in the damp stone corridor, they began to pass doors. Some were open, and empty, others were closed and locked. From one, they heard a clicking, and a shrill screech that made Celebros shudder and the elves looked disgusted and sick. Cundariel and Rilhir flinched, as if they could relate. It made Celebros feel sick himself to imagine what was going on.  
  
Suddenly Rilhir stopped by a door. There was a large keyhole. The door apparently opened inward. No sound came from it. Gwalas bent to the keyhole and examined it.  
  
After a silence, he straightened. 'It is a simple keyhole,' he said. 'Almost any key would open it. I doubt Galadon expected visitors. Does anyone have a key, or anything like one? A file? Something thin, and small enough to fit? It would not even have to be precisely the same size; anything smaller will do.'  
  
Celebros fumbled in his pack. As he did so, he looked up quickly; the others were looking at him. 'Will a small knife do?' he asked.  
  
'It might,' Gwalas said. Celebros took his miniscule blade out and held it up. Cundariel took it and fit it into the lock. She twisted it around. There was a loud click. Cundariel absently handed the knife back to Celebros. He stowed it into his bag. After pausing, as if afraid what she might find, she slowly opened the door.  
  
On a stone bench in the center of the small dark room lay a sleeping elf. He was wearing a ragged grey cloak, not a white garment such as the others were wearing. He did not wake. His hair was shoulder-length, and light blond. There were a few streaks of brown in it, too.  
  
Cundariel hurried to him. Celebros was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She knelt at his side and took his hand, shaking him softly as if afraid he might break.  
  
He stirred slightly, then opened his eyes. They were gray, and dull, but wide as he looked at his sister. She smiled, her tears still in her eyes. He did not speak, or even try to, but sat up, ever so slowly, clutching his left arm, his eyes locked to hers. He released his own arm and reached out, an almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he did not believe she was real and not just a dream or a fantasy, and placed it on hers. He was shaking, whether from years of torment, or fear, or pain, or happiness, or hope. He gasped as he touched her arm, but no sound came from his mouth save a little intake of breath. He looked at her face; reached up and slowly traced the gash on it.  
  
'Five days,' she whispered. 'It's nothing worse than the orc-raid gave me. I'm fine.'  
  
He shook his head. She looked at his arm that he had clutched, then softly drew back the sleeve. He did not wince. There was a rustle of fabric, and then a silence. On his arm was a fresh gash, nearly five inches long, that could not have been made more than six hours old. Cundariel narrowed her eyes. He put a hand under her chin, pushed her head up so she was looking him in the eyes again, shook his head, and pushed his sleeve back down again. For the first time, he looked up at the others, who stood in the doorway, and smiled. He rose, once again very slowly, and stepped over to them. Cundariel followed him uncertainly. He looked back at her, and she reached out her robed arm. The sleeve fell back to reveal several more welts. Ignoring that, she put a hand on his shoulder. He touched her hand, and smiled again, turning back to the others.  
  
At last Cundariel broke the long silence. 'Tasarian,' she whispered, 'this is Gwalas, and Aeargil of Methnan, and Celebros of Minas Tirith, and Rilhir.'  
  
Tasarian looked at Rilhir. His eyes narrowed.  
  
Rilhir spoke suddenly, a tremor in his voice. He whispered, 'I defied him, three years ago. He imprisoned me. I was foolish, because I could have found a way to free people first. I hated him, and I ever will, for what he told me to do, and what I did in fear, and what he did to us all. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry.'  
  
Rilhir was looking imploringly at Tasarian. The elf, who was leaning on Cundariel for support now, looked at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. It seemed that Rilhir relaxed, and so did the others.  
  
'We must hurry,' Gwalas put in urgently. 'They will notice, they will find us. Quickly now!'  
  
They began along, but before they had been going a minute, those who had been prisoners were already lagging. Most of the injuries Aeargil had taken were on her legs, for trying to escape, and she was stumbling badly, tired. Tasarian was using the rough stone wall as support, for Cundariel was helping lead the way. They began to take a different route, and came out of the mountain part of the tunnels.  
  
They stumbled down the dimly lighted corridor, Cundariel leading the way, Gwalas helping Rilhir, who was gasping for breath and staggering, Celebros helping Tasarian, who merely stumbled silently along, breathing fast but not hard. Aeargil staggered along behind, refusing help. Cundariel tripped suddenly and fell to her knees.  
  
'Cundariel!' Gwalas whispered urgently. She looked up at him, twitching in pain, and pushed herself to her feet. They traveled on for several minutes, the silence broken only by panting and groans. They came to a T in the hall and took the left way. Ahead was a doorless entryway to a vast chamber. Light flooded out of it. Cundariel stopped suddenly in front of it. Gasping, the others came up behind her.  
  
In the middle was a platform, and on it was a huge stone beset with many jewels.  
  
'The Mirdon,' Rilhir breathed, awed.  
  
'Wait here,' Cundariel whispered in a strangled voice. 'No! Cundariel, no!' Celebros said loudly. She looked at him, hesitating, and then at Tasarian, who made no move, indeed no sign to indicate life, then tore her gaze away and stepped into the room.  
  
As soon as her foot touched the floor, a shrill noise echoed along the corridors. Cundariel backed hastily away. 'An alarm,' moaned Gwalas. They ran on.  
  
Celebros took the lead, and Cundariel helped Tasarian. They reached a four- way and took a left. Again, this time he lead them straight. Again, and left. Right. Right. Straight. Then he stopped suddenly, and the others passed him, came to a halt behind him and turned. He stepped in front. 'No!' Cundariel yelled.  
  
Galadon, clad in light blue, stood calmly before them. 'Too late,' he said calmly, and his voice was rich and echoed off the walls. 'Too long you have defied me. Now you shall at last know defeat. Come now,' he said turning to Celebros with an unconcerned smile, 'do you defy me still? Must I fight a child? You, little one, are the fittest of these? Very well,' and he laughed, making them flinch, 'if I must, I must.' He snapped his fingers, and the alarm died.  
  
Slowly, he drew his sword. Celebros followed suit. They fought.  
  
Thrust, swing, block; the others lost count of how long it went on. They stood rooted with horror. Celebros swung his sword at Galadon's sword side, and he flung out his blade feebly, but turned, and the blades struck. They stood seemingly still for a time, their swords pressed against each others, Galadon looking unperturbed, Celebros panting, but Galadon's blade was inching toward Celebros' hand. A look of fear, but also of hatred and determination, was clear on the young Man's face. There was a moment of silence save their loud breathing, and then the swords moved so fast that the others could not tell what happened. 'Run,' Celebros begged the others through his set teeth. 'Go!' The swords danced, but the onlookers could tell who was the better; Galadon was gradually backing the boy up.  
  
It happened in a flash: as Celebros stood rigid, waiting for a move, Galadon swung his blade over the boy's head and sparks seemed to fly. Then Celebros flew backwards through the air, and slid on the ground, his eyes shut, blood seeping from the back of his head where he had hit it nastily on the rough part of the stony wall. Just out of his reach lay his sword, broken. Galadon approached him very slowly. He stood beside the boy a moment, gazing almost earnestly at him. A half-look of triumph and almost surprise came into his eyes and vanished quickly. Then with an ugly snarl he raised his sword.  
  
At that moment, Rilhir sprang forward at the Elf. Galadon's eyes widened, and he swung up his sword. Rilhir blocked it with a quick thrust. Galadon's sword clattered to the ground. He looked up at Rilhir; surprise, anger, astonishment, and fear in his eyes and face. Rilhir brought the blade down on Galadon's shoulder. He gave a cry, but had already made his move: he had planted a small knife in Rilhir's stomach. The jeweled hilt sparkled innocently. Galadon turned and ran. Aeargil gasped.  
  
Celebros crawled over to Rilhir, who was on his knees, shuddering, gasping, his mouth open in shock and pain. 'No,' Celebros whispered, blood dripping down the back of his shirt from the back of his head. 'Rilhir! Rilhir!'  
  
The others, who had rushed forward as best they could, helped ease Rilhir down. 'Rilhir! Hold on!' Gwalas cried urgently. 'Celebros! Do you still have kingsfoil?'  
  
'No.' It was a simple word, but pain welled up as the boy forced the word out. Both the boy and Rilhir took a shuddering breath.  
  
Rilhir moaned, his eyes shut. He whispered something, opening his eyes and fixing an agonized gaze on Celebros.  
  
Celebros let out a low moaning sound. 'All right,' he whispered. He touched the hilt, and a shudder ran through Rilhir's body. Then he fell still. Gwalas cried out, and Cundariel whispered, 'Is he...'  
  
'No,' Celebros said grimly. 'Not yet, at least. Gwalas, I need cloth.'  
  
They saw that the blade had not penetrated as deep as they had thought. Gwalas held the cloth ready, and taking a breath Celebros drew out the blade, throwing it away. It clattered against the wall and to the floor. Gwalas quickly bound it, and picked up the still figure. They quickly continued on. They turned right, and there was Malannon, the Gold Gate. The guards were gone, gone to help with the alarm...Cundariel flung it open and they hurried into the open. In unison, Cundariel and Aeargil gasped, then Aeargil laughed in sheer delight to be outside again, the twilight and the trees.  
  
'We must steal horses, strong ones. Five or six, I think. Tasarian and Rilhir will need to ride with someone,' Gwalas said. 'And maybe Celebros... Celebros, are you all right?' The boy was swaying. Gwalas caught him in strong arms as the boy sank to the ground, and he set him down against a treetrunk. 'We are in no condition to travel anywhere yet,' he said. Cundariel hastened into the woods, leaving Tasarian using a tree as support and gazing in awe at the stars. Gwalas realized suddenly that the elf had not been outside in almost thirty years.  
  
Cundariel returned ten minutes later from the stables, followed by six large horses and carrying a few packs, to find Gwalas bending over Celebros, Aeargil anxiously hovering by his shoulder. The older elf looked up as she approached. 'Good. Can you find some kingsfoil? I am the only one here who does not need it. Rilhir will die if he does not get some in the next few hours, and Celebros might. The rest of you have been imprisoned, and tortured. The boy - he's in a bad way. I think that the Elf's blade was tainted with a quick-working poison, and that he got cut with it somewhere.'  
  
Cundariel nodded and disappeared into the trees.  
  
+++++  
  
It was half an hour before Cundariel returned. She had ten leaves of athelas, wrapped in a cloth. Celebros' eyes were open, but he was staring at nothing, unfocused, almost with a glazed look. Aeargil was examining him worridly. Cundariel glanced at the boy, handing the leaves absently to Gwalas, and Aeargil looked up and said quietly, 'He is feverish. It is good that you brought extra, for he and Rilhir will need it.'  
  
Gwalas had started a fire and heated water. He crushed two leaves and steeped them in the hot water. 'I need you to unwrap the wound,' Gwalas breathed softly. 'It will bleed badly, but I will wash it and then we must bind it quickly.'  
  
This they did. However, when Gwalas began to bathe it, tremors ran though Rilhir's body. They quickly finished and wrapped it, and he stilled.  
  
Next they went to Celebros. Gwalas lay a hand on his forehead. The boy's head shot up, and Gwalas withdrew his hand with a hiss. 'He's burning up,' he muttered anxiously. Soaking a cloth in the water, he sponged the boy's forehead and arms. Also, they washed and bound the cut on the back of his head. It was several inches long and deep. Celebros loosened up, going limp. 'He ought to be all right, but it will be some time. But if the blade was poisoned, he is as good as dead. Let us tend your brother.' Gwalas' voice was torn with dread.  
  
They went to Tasarian then. He was asleep against a tree. Scars and weals crisscrossed his face and arms. He awoke as they neared.  
  
They washed his arm gently, and he worked his mouth, but no sound came out. Gwalas gave him a cup of water, and he fell asleep again.  
  
Aeargil was in better condition than the rest save Gwalas, for she had been treated less harshly. She had not been taken for punishment, but in sheer spite and evil. There was a burn on one hand, but it was old, and a few scars on her calves. One ran across her cheek. Other than that, she seemed fine.  
  
Gwalas helped Cundariel bathe her injuries with more of the water. On either arm was a burn - a mockery of a brand, he realized with a shock - and the area around it was red and swollen. There was also a small cut on the back of her neck. Her forearms and lower legs were covered in slashes and whip-marks, too. She flinched as he touched each one.  
  
They decided to move farther from the gate lest they be found. They put out the fire and hid all traces that they could. Tasarian could hold onto the horse, if he could do nothing else. They helped him onto one, and Aeargil rode with Celebros and Rilhir with Gwalas. Cundariel rode in silence, looking worridly at Celebros, who was limp in front of Aeargil and pale. They rode for nearly an hour, then stopped and made camp. Gwalas did not sleep that night. He stayed awake to guard and watch the injured members of the company.  
  
+++++  
  
In the morning, Cundariel awoke to find the bright sunlight streaming through the trees. Gwalas was the only other one awake yet; he was standing by the horses, silent. He turned as Cundariel stood.  
  
'Rilhir is not doing well,' he said sadly. 'He has a very high fever, about the level Celebros' is at. The kingsfoil has not had much effect on either of them. Tasarian appears better, though. See, his face is less pale. Do you want to wake him?'  
  
She looked at her brother, and indeed he did look better than he had the night before. She walked slowly over to him and shook his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes and smiled. His mouth opened, but still no words issued. He shook his head sadly, but stood up and touched his face, which was covered in scars. The smile faded slightly, and became a bit sadder, as if he was thinking of things that would have been better forgotten.  
  
He realized she was watching him, and touched his slashed hand to her face. He clasped her hand in his, searching her eyes for understanding, and she nodded.  
  
Aeargil woke up a few minutes later, and Gwalas told her about the others' situation. She nodded wearily, then went to check Celebros' condition. She felt his forehead, and looked at the gash on the back of his head, then examined his arm. Looking at it, her eyes widened, and she caressed his hand, then dropped it and walked hastily over to Gwalas and spoke quietly to him. Cundariel heard what she said.  
  
'There's a cut on his upper arm, and on his hand. That foul Elf's blade made it, or I'm a blind fool. The one on his upper arm - it looks bad. I think the blade was poisoned.'  
  
Gwalas hurried over to examine it. Cundariel turned away. It was looking worse and worse for the boy. After a moment, she turned toward Tasarian. Her younger brother was looking with immense sadness at Celebros. He shut his eyes and shook his head, his light blonde hair with its few brown streaks untidy, hanging loosely over his shoulder. He opened his eyes as she lay a hand on his shoulder, and they seemed like endless grey pools, dim and shadowy. He opened his mouth, and to her surprise and joy, this time words came out. They were slow and halting, but she knew that voice.  
  
'Who is the Man? The little one - the young boy -'  
  
'His name is Celebros,' she answered with a sad smile. 'He is the grandson of the King of the Reunited Kingdom. King Elessar.'  
  
Tasarion's eyes widened, then grew sad. 'He is hurt. Because you waited for me.'  
  
'We wouldn't have left you. It is not your fault that he did.'  
  
He nodded, but she knew he was doubtful. Gwalas had turned to look at him in surprise that he was speaking.  
  
'Are you hurt?' he asked her.  
  
After a pause, she said, 'Yes. It is not bad. It has been tended.'  
  
There was a silence. Then he whispered, 'I should have tried to escape. But after a while, a couple years, I never defied him. Never. I was obedient, even when he...' His voice faded; his face was contorted in pain.  
  
'No,' she whispered. 'Don't do that to yourself.'  
  
'The boy...' Tasarian said after a moment. 'Is he going to die?'  
  
She tried not to look at Celebros and failed. Her eyes still on him, she whispered, 'We don't know.'  
  
'I'm sorry,' Tasarian said quietly. 'I know you care for him. He is your friend. He is...braver than I am...and he was trained well in the sword forms.'  
  
Gwalas asked her if she could examine Rilhir. She put a cool hand to his forehead, and found that he had been quite right; Rilhir was quite as hot as Celebros. The knife had obviously not been poisoned badly, or Rilhir would already be dead, but it had been a wicked blade. Tasarian watched her; Gwalas had warned him to be careful, and he was still shaky enough not to trust himself. Cundariel removed the wrap, and saw that the bleeding was almost stopped. Seeing the wound, her brother let out his breath in a low, sharp hiss. He clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowed. Cundariel tried to ignore it, but couldn't help think of what Galadon had done to her, and what he had likely done to her brother.  
  
She examined the area around his wound. It was reddened and swollen, but no more than could be expected. She reported this to Gwalas. He looked uncertainly around, then asked her a question.  
  
'I am going to leave the judgement up to you, Cundariel. Should we continue on today, or should we stay? My heart tells me go on, yet it could be either ruin or salvation. I don't know!' The last was a cry, a proclamation of dismay. He threw up his hands. 'I don't know,' he whispered, looking torn.  
  
Cundariel gazed around. 'I think we should stay here until noontime, and then go on,' she said finally.  
  
Gwalas agreed halfheartedly. They sat in silence for much of the late morning. Finally, at about eleven, Celebros woke. He was fevered still, but not delirious. He looked up, but did not speak. Gwalas felt his forehead, and both of them winced. Celebros looked quickly, questioningly, at Rilhir.  
  
'He isn't doing well,' Gwalas said softly. 'He has a high fever. Although you are not doing very well either. How is your head?'  
  
Celebros feebly put up his hand and touched the back of his head. He winced, and then shuddered. 'Not good, I see,' Gwalas said sympathetically. 'There is little more I can do, for you or for him. We are going to be traveling soon. I must be truthful; it will not be good for either of you, and will put you both at risk to your lives. There is naught to do about it, though. If we stay we may be found, and he will certainly kill you both.'  
  
Celebros nodded, looking troubled and sad. There was something in his gaze that Cundariel could see and recognize. It was the same way Tasarian had looked at her as he told her it was his fault.  
  
Suddenly, Celebros' eyes widened. Gwalas looked around, to see what it was that had startled him. Cundariel saw it at once.  
  
'Where's Aeargil?' she asked quietly. Gwalas started and looked around. Then with a groan he shut his eyes.  
  
Still they sat, for several minutes, and then a small noise behind them made Cundariel spin around. It was Aeargil, and in her hand she held several leaves of athelas. Gwalas let out a sigh of relief.  
  
'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I thought...'  
  
Gwalas nodded heavily. He looked over at Tasarian, who was resting silently against a tree; not asleep, just resting. Celebros sighed softly and was asleep once more. Rilhir had not stirred. His only movement was the slow rising and falling of his chest.  
  
One of the horses stamped impatiently. 'We ought to go,' Gwalas said, breaking the sudden stillness that had come across the site. 'Aeargil, you help me get Celebros onto one. Tasarian!' The Elf's eyes opened and he stood. 'Can you ride?'  
  
'Yes.' It was a bit slurred, but definite.  
  
'Cundariel, help me get Rilhir onto this one. You ride the bay. Tasarian, you use the chestnut. Do we have everything?' They continued on through light and shadow, over grass and stone, until the shadows overwhelmed all else.  
  
+++++  
  
They would have traveled farther yet, even, but they were forced to stop. Celebros was awake, but his fever was worsening, and he was no longer completely lucid. He would be aware, groaning and asking Aeargil questions, and then he would be muttering incoherently, about the King, and Eldarion, and things they could not hear and did not understand. Rilhir was not doing better, but it was unclear whether he was doing worse. They stopped in a small clearing with two trees in the center. Then, as they set Rilhir down again, he awoke with a low moan.  
  
'Wha -' he groaned softly. His eyes opened; they appeared dim, and almost filmed over. He moved his mouth soundlessly, then forced out painfully, 'Celebros.' He would listen to no one else until he was told that the boy was all right. Then he said, 'What - happened?' His words were forced, his breath was shaky. Gwalas told him, but Cundariel noticed he was very careful not to say anything about Celebros' condition; Rilhir was so apparently worried about the boy that the truth would distress him. Celebros was dozing against a tree, and as soon as Gwalas had explained things to Rilhir, he left the others to talk to him and went to tend Celebros.  
  
The boy was no better. He had to get athelas. They started a fire and heated water, steeped athelas in it, and reapplied it to both Celebros, who was still asleep, and Rilhir, who was slumped silently against a tree. It was unclear whether he could see Celebros or not, but he obviously sensed the tense atmosphere. He called to Cundariel and said one word, 'Celebros.' She hesitated, looking at Gwalas, who had suddenly stopped swabbing Celebros' forehead and was looking at them. Aeargil stood up from where she had been watching Celebros and walked over to Rilhir.  
  
'When he was thrown against the wall, he got a nasty gash on his head,' she said. 'He also got a few cuts on his arm from the blade, which was poisoned. He's fevered. He's sleeping now.'  
  
Rilhir's bluegreen eyes met Aeargil's blue ones, and he slowly closed them. They sat still, waiting, until they realized he was asleep again. Cundariel turned her head swiftly to look at Gwalas. His head was bowed, and his long red hair hid his eyes. 'You should get some sleep,' he muttered.  
  
'So should you,' Aeargil began, a trifle angry, but the Elf raised a hand and stopped her, shaking his head. 'I will watch,' he said softly.  
  
Aeargil stood rigid for a moment, her mouth open, then she closed it and lay down, pulling her brown cloak over her. They slept.  
  
+++++  
  
Cundariel was wakened by a chirping in the trees. It was morning. Gwalas was looking gravely at her, silent. 'Aeargil is already awake,' he said. 'She went to get some water. There is a stream nearby.'  
  
'How are they?'  
  
In every line of Gwalas' face was etched grave anxiety. 'Rilhir is no better. His fever may have lowered slightly, I suppose, and the wound is healing more, but I still am not sure if he will live. As for the boy...'  
  
He looked over at Celebros, and suddenly drew in an unsteady breath. Cundariel got to her feet. 'What?' she whispered. Gwalas looked up. 'He is not doing well. Despite the kingsfoil, his wounds are infecting, and it has not lessened the poison that had already entered his system. There is nothing more I can do. Nothing!' He looked up, his face anguished. 'If he dies... Nothing! I can do nothing but watch, and hope.'  
  
'Then that's what we'll do. If there is nothing else to be done, then we can do no more. Is it safe to wake them?'  
  
'Celebros...perhaps. I do not think it would be wise to awake Rilhir. We should leave soon, though.'  
  
Cundariel shook Celebros' shoulder gently. His eyes slowly opened. They focused on her face. He slowly raised his hand and tried to grip her shoulder. His hand twitched, and fell back. The expression in his eyes was confused. He mouthed something, her name, perhaps. His light grey eyes closed, then opened again, and then he gave a start. His eyes rolled up into his head, and his hand started to twitch weakly, palm up. His other arm lay still. He gave a weak groan, his eyes unfocused.  
  
'Gwalas!' Cundariel whispered. Gwalas glanced at them, then hurried over.  
  
'It's the poison,' he whispered somberly. 'There's nothing I can do. He's going to die. Unless we can find some way to extract it, or dilute it...he'll die.'  
  
The boy gave another moan, and shifted. Slowly his eyes closed. His hand was clenched into a loose fist.  
  
'We must go on,' Aeargil said. 'It could be our ruin, but we are achieving nothing staying here.' 'Yes,' Gwalas said softly, still looking at Celebros. 'Yes, we must.'  
  
They traveled much more slowly that day. Rilhir awoke at last, and then they stopped.  
  
'We're safe,' he whispered. 'Out of Rildor.'  
  
'Rildor?' Gwalas looked puzzled. 'The Land of Flame?'  
  
'It's his name for his realm,' Rildor told them unsteadily. 'I -' He suddenly stopped. He closed his eyes breifly, then fixed them on Celebros.  
  
'Is he doing all right?' he whispered, his voice weaker.  
  
There was a silence. Then -  
  
'No,' Aeargil said quietly.  
  
A pained look came across Rilhir's face. 'The poison?' he whispered.  
  
'I think it's durthond,' Gwalas said slowly.  
  
Rilhir's eyes widened, then he tried to smile. 'Goldroot - in the packs. Have you tried any?'  
  
'Goldroot? I haven't seen it yet, but I can try it,' Gwalas said.  
  
Rilhir nodded, and his eyes closed. Gwalas rummaged through his sack and brought out a small bag filled with a pale yellow powder. 'I wish I'd known about this before,' Gwalas said, hurrying over to Celebros. 'There is none in this area; I wonder where it came from.'  
  
Celebros opened his eyes. He did not speak, but winced, flinching as Gwalas lay a hand on his shoulder. He was given goldroot, and choked it down. While he did this, Gwalas went to check in the other packs. He glanced worridly at the small supply of goldroot.  
  
Gwalas slept that night. When Aeargil woke, Tasarian alone was awake; he was muttering in Sindarin softly. He looked up as she rose. 'How is he?' she asked, gesturing to the still form of Celebros beside him.  
  
'Better,' the elf said. 'The goldroot, it worked. His fever's gone, or close to it.'  
  
They awoke Gwalas to examine Rilhir. The red-haired elf's eyes open abruptly, and he scrambled to his feet. 'Celebros?' he whispered anxiously.  
  
'Better,' Tasarian said.  
  
Gwalas knelt by Rilhir, his expressions mixed. He felt Rilhir's forehead, and the dulling eyes sprang open and swiveled instantly to Celebros. 'The goldroot worked,' Aeargil said quietly. For a moment Rilhir's eyes still were fixed on Celebros. Then he looked at Gwalas. Gwalas gazed intently, his hazel eyes burning, and Rilhir's closed wearily.  
  
'We best not move today. Rilhir may look and seem better, but if anything, his fever is worse. Perhaps the knife was tainted with a slower poison. My hope fades.'  
  
Celebros awoke that afternoon to find Gwalas rewrapping the gash on his head. His mind was clearer, although at the moment he wished it was not. He felt, for some reason, weaker, more vulnerable. He stirred, and Gwalas smiled.  
  
'Goldroot,' the elf said quietly. 'You will be weak for many days yet, but the fever is broken.'  
  
It took a moment for Celebros' mind to form the right words. 'How is Rilhir?'  
  
Gwalas gave him a sharp look. 'Not good,' he said briskly. Then, 'Stay still, boy.' When his head was bound again, Gwalas patted him on the shoulder with a quick smile. 'There. Take some rest. We're going nowhere today.'  
  
+++++  
  
Tasarian spoke in an undertone to Aeargil most of that afternoon. Cundariel sat next to Rilhir, sharpening her knives and making arrows. Gwalas had gone to find food, for they were running low. Celebros tried to sleep, but could not. The others kept glancing at him, so he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.  
  
Gwalas returned early that evening. Celebros then opened his eyes and sat up. They ate in silence.  
  
Celebros tried to stay awake that night, for a lurking dread was growing in his mind, but could not. He was too weak yet, and too tired.  
  
Around eleven, he awoke. The sense of forboding was hammering at him, and he moved nearer to Rilhir.  
  
Rilhir's breath was coming in short gasps, hard and fast. His eyes fixed onto Celebros. He opened his mouth and strove to speak.  
  
Rilhir finally spoke between shuddering breaths. 'I knew what I was doing.' His voice was shaky, and he was speaking each word between gasping. He stopped a moment, then looked at Celebros. The boy turned quickly. 'Gwalas!' he said, his voice wavering. Gwalas' eyes opened and he hurried over next to Rilhir. Their eyes locked, and a beam of understanding shot between them.  
  
Rilhir shut his eyes a moment, then looked intently at Celebros. His voice began to slow, but his eyes begged the boy to understand. 'It is too late. I am free now, at last. I took a risk, and I knew what I was doing. I am sorry to leave, but I would be thousand times more sorry had I not done what I did.' He shuddered, then his eyes closed. Gwalas looked at the still figure for a long time. Then he turned to Celebros, who was sitting in silence beside Rilhir, his shoulders quivering, but his eyes dry.  
  
'Sleep, boy,' he commanded. 'Sleep. We will travel tomorrow.'  
  
+++++  
  
Gwalas had already broken the news to the others when Celebros woke, and the boy was grateful at least for that. They buried Rilhir with no ceremony, no song, as was usual at a death. After a moment of silence, they turned away. Tasarian supported Celebros, who still could not walk well, not without staggering. Gwalas stared bleakly at the ground. None of the three had spoken since waking.  
  
When they were back with the horses, Aeargil walked over and lay a hand on Celebros' shoulder. 'You remember what he did. He knew the risk he took, and he knew that he could stop it. Do you think he would have died in peace, years from now, if he knew that he had a chance to save his rescuer's life, and he had not? You remember what he told you, Celebros. You believe it.'  
  
Celebros' sad eyes rose slowly to meet her face. They held each other's gaze for a moment, then Celebros slowly shook his head. 'How?' he whispered. Aeargil took her hand off his shoulder, her eyes pained. Gwalas walked over to them and looked at first one, then the other.  
  
'Celebros, can you ride?' he said finally, breaking the heavy silence that had entered the clearing. 'I would not want to assume that you are fine, for it could be deadly.'  
  
'I think I can,' Celebros answered. 'Are we going very fast?'  
  
'I don't believe so. Aeargil, could you ride beside him, at least?'  
  
'Yes,' she replied without hesitation. 'Very well. I hope to leave before eight; that is in one hour. We must clean up what we have left here; even if Rilhir was right and we are out of Galadon's land. I don't want to take any chances. He could have sent out spies. I have heard that he told Tasarian that he had sent spies to watch as far south as the Treegarth of Orthanc.'  
  
They traveled faster that day, stopping at noontime for a meager and subdued lunch. They had found no sign of recent life since leaving Rildor.  
  
'We're about fifty miles south of the Malannon,' Gwalas told them that night. 'I do not think we need fear pursuers any longer, but yet I am uneasy. With your consent, I will place two of you on each watch tonight. Cundariel? Aeargil? Will you take first watch?'  
  
'Yes,' they said in unison, then looked at each other. Aeargil gave a small, innocent grin.  
  
'Tasarian? You and I second?'  
  
'Very well.'  
  
'Then, I think, Cundariel and I, and then Aeargil and Tasarian.'  
  
Celebros almost opened his mouth, but thought better of it. Gwalas, however, apparently saw the look on his face, for he glared at the boy. 'No, Celebros,' he growled quietly. Aeargil's grin widened.  
  
Celebros slept through the night. He awoke only when Tasarian shook him awake at sunup; everyone else was awake or awaking. 'How do you feel?' Tasarian asked. 'Fine,' Celebros lied. Tasarian nodded and walked away.  
  
In actuality, he was unsure why he had not woken up screaming. His head was pounding, and the arm that had been cut by the poisoned blade was throbbing. Had someone told him his head was split, he would have believed them. With a start and a grimace, he remembered that his head had been split open. He touched the wrappings gingerly and winced. Gwalas must have seen it, for he came over and set a hand on Celebros' shoulder, peering into his eyes. His gaze was piercing; searching. Celebros shifted uneasily and flinched again. Gwalas sighed wearily and looked away, but did not loosen his grip on his shoulder. Still not meeting his gaze, Gwalas spoke to him.  
  
'How do you feel, boy?'  
  
It was a challenge, Celebros realized suddenly and with amazement. Gwalas knew that he didn't want to admit that he was hurting, but even though he already knew that no, he was not okay, he wanted Celebros to admit it. He fidgeted a little, glancing at Gwalas.  
  
'My head hurts, but I'm sound otherwise.' It was not wholly a lie, but not the truth either.  
  
'Good,' Gwalas clapped his hand on the shoulder of Celebros' bad arm, hard. He fought back a wince. Gwalas met his gaze again. Then he strode away.  
  
Celebros sat still for a moment yet. With only a half-forced smile, he got up and prepared to leave.  
  
+++++  
  
That day they traveled at a good pace: only slightly slower than they had the day before. They reached the end of the tree-covered area (thus they called it, for the trees were not thick enough to be a forest, save in a few spots), and soon were traveling through the hills and plateaus that were found east of the Misty Mountains.  
  
That night, Celebros realized that he had no clear idea of where they were going. He did not ask anyone, but fell asleep weighing the possibilities on his mind.  
  
He supposed they would probably stop in Methnan, and there Aeargil would stay. Then perhaps Cundariel and Tasarian would go to Eryn Lasgalen. Gwalas had promised Celebros he would accompany him to Minas Tirith, so he was assured one companion - if they were going to the City.  
  
When he awoke the next morning, he could bear it no longer. He resolved to ask Gwalas.  
  
No one else was awake yet. That was unusual. Normally he was the last one up. He pushed himself up and glanced around. The horses were tied together, and two were lying down. The others were stamping impatiently. Gwalas was lying against a tree, his cloak covoring him. Cundariel, Aeargil, and Tasarian were on the ground, each covored with a thin blanket. Aeargil had wrapped up her cloak and lay it under her head. Tasarian's head shifted, and he murmered something. Then he woke. His back was to Celebros, so he did not notice him. The elf pushed himself to his feet, still muttering under his breath. He stood still for a moment, then, as if sensing Celebros' presence, slowly turned. He nodded as he saw the boy. 'Good morning,' he said softly.  
  
Celebros returned the greeting. Seeing the boy's look at the others, he smiled. 'They were up talking well into the night,' he said. 'Then they stayed up to watch. I think that Gwalas has not slept since...' His voice faded.  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said quietly.  
  
Suddenly, there was a crunch behind them. Cundariel was standing, slow and graceful.  
  
'Hello,' she said, seeming to stifle a yawn.  
  
'Good morning,' Celebros said.  
  
'Is it?' she asked. 'I suppose it is,' she said at last, as if they had just concluded a long conversation. 'Good morning.'  
  
'Are we going to Methnan?' Celebros asked, abruptly remembering his train of thought the night before.  
  
Cundariel looked startled. 'I don't know,' she said. 'I haven't spoken to Aeargil much about that.'  
  
'Much?'  
  
'Much. I talked to her a bit. But not much.'  
  
Gwalas suddenly stirred. His red hair shifted, and then his eyes opened. 'Good morning,' he said, not rising until he had said it. Celebros and Cundariel glanced at each other and laughed. Gwalas smiled.  
  
'I'm not going to ask,' he said, all trace of amusement suddenly going from his face.  
  
'What?' Celebros asked suddenly.  
  
Gwalas tried to look puzzled. Celebros shook his head. 'You know what I'm talking about.'  
  
'I did not dream well,' he said stiffly. 'We should wake Aeargil.'  
  
They did so, and Cundariel asked Gwalas whether they were going to Methnan. Gwalas glanced at Aeargil, who had frozen when they mentioned the place. She looked up, undecided, then said, 'I think I would like to see the White City. There are few of the Methnan'rim who have. I may return afterwards. I do not know.'  
  
'We should avoid the areas of the Galadil.' Gwalas looked thoughtful. 'I know the territories. They stay on the outskirts of the forest. No more than an hour's walk in or out, but all the way up and down on the west.'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said with a weak grin. 'I do not think we would like it if we ran into them. I do not think they would like it either.'  
  
Aeargil and Tasarian looked confused, but said nothing.  
  
'Very well, then it is settled. Unless...'  
  
'Yes?' Celebros prompted.  
  
'Tasarian. Would you like to go to the City?'  
  
'I would indeed,' Tasarian said, smiling. 'It is decided. There is one question I have, however. How long will it take us to reach the City of Minas Tirith?'  
  
Gwalas shot a quick look at Celebros.  
  
'Oh - forty days? I'm not sure. It depends on our pace.' Tasarian tilted his head, but said nothing.  
  
They went on more quickly that day, not stopping until nightfall.  
  
+++++  
  
Morning broke over the companions, and soon after then, Tasarian awoke. It still felt strange, and would for years to come. Freedom. The sun in the morning, and Cundariel...  
  
He glanced at her, still sleeping, her golden hair untidy. The others were asleep too...Aeargil and Gwalas and -  
  
And Celebros. But there was something wrong with the young Man. His back was to the rest of them, and there was no visible change that Tasarian could see, but he knew something was wrong.  
  
'Gwalas,' he whispered. 'Gwalas...'  
  
Gwalas stirred, and his eyes opened. He sat up. 'Is something wrong?'  
  
'Celebros.'  
  
Gwalas looked over at the boy as Tasarian continued to speak. 'I don't know what it is, I just feel something...I don't...' His voice faded and he shook his head. 'I don't know...'  
  
'You're right,' Gwalas said. 'Elbereth take me! How could I be so ignorant?!'  
  
'What is it?' Aeargil asked, waking up.  
  
'Celebros' fever's back,' Gwalas said, defeat in his eyes. 'Not as bad, not even very severe, but it's relapsing.'  
  
Tasarian woke Cundariel quietly. She blinked sleepily. 'His fever's back,' he muttered to her. She winced and nodded. 'Not as bad as before, but...'  
  
Gwalas stared at the boy, his head bowed. 'We don't have enough goldroot to do a thing,' he admitted at last. 'It's the wrong season for it. I think we'll just have to do like we did before. It's a long way to the City, but we'll have to get there as quickly as possible.'  
  
'What about Imladris?' Aeargil asked.  
  
Gwalas shook his head. 'Elladan and Elrohir are good at healing, but they're often as not gone, and it's the King Elessar we need, if anything I've heard about him is true.'  
  
'It probably is,' Cundariel said, 'and more.'  
  
+++++  
  
'How is he?'  
  
'He's weak. But it's getting better slowly. He woke up this morning. He was lucid, for the first time in ten days now.'  
  
'Why didn't the goldroot take the fever out entirely?' Aeargil's voice was bitter.  
  
'It was poison-induced. It happens sometimes. He's smart, Galadon is. Most elves don't know the other properties of durthond; they either use it as a source of entertainment when they're low on wine, or they use it to drug prisoners. Sometimes along the mountains, on the recovery-raids, they use it so much that the prisoners become addicts. But if it's put into the bloodstream - well, we've all seen the effects.'  
  
'What did he use on Rilhir?'  
  
'A foul concoction of his own, most likely. I've never seen it before. It was very much like durthond. Slower working, harder to treat. Thus, more deadly. But it was very - interesting.' Gwalas spat the last word, making it obvious that it was only for lack of a better word.  
  
'It seems like the kind of thing he would like. I only saw him three times - he visited me twice in my cell, and once he took our whole wing out when someone escaped and was caught in the forest. He wanted to make an example.'  
  
'Elbereth. I can't imagine what it was like. He seemed... strange. Much more powerful than he was letting on.'  
  
'I heard at home that he was an Istarii.' Aeargil laughed. 'I don't think so. Unless he had his powers weakened, or his staff confiscated. Someone was going on about how he was really Virma the Blue. But he's Cundariel's cousin, isn't he?' 'Apparently so.'  
  
Gwalas was quiet for a minute, and they could hear Tasarian talking in quiet Sindarin. The smoke from the fire made the stars look like they were moving, shimmering, more like diamonds than ever.  
  
+++++  
  
'How close to the City are we?'  
  
'We'll get there tomorrow. We're on the Fields now.'  
  
'We could reach it tonight.' This was from Celebros. He was wan and tired and much more subdued, but the fever was gone. His cloak was swathed around him, and he was shivering. The firelight shadowed his face and brought out its sharpness, how much thinner it was, how pale. Out of the group, he sat closest to the flames.  
  
'No, Celebros,' Aeargil said to him gently. 'It's dark, and we're all tired. And you aren't well yet.'  
  
Celebros didn't protest.  
  
'Who do we need to know in the City?' Gwalas asked. 'Who will we meet?'  
  
Celebros smiled and launched into a description of the City, of Eldarion and Snaga and King Elessar. He was much more alive and enthusiastic than he had been the past few weeks.  
  
After a long time, Celebros nodded off, and the rest of them followed soon after.  
  
Epilogue  
  
'Celebros!'  
  
Eldarion's voice rang clear through the excitement of the City. He heard it and turned. Cundariel also spun around, and the others more slowly.  
  
'Eldarion!'  
  
They made their way towards the King's son slowly. Eldarion sobered at their appearences; ragged and scarred and thin, worn. He hugged his nephew and smiled, nodded to Cundariel... they moved off to a more private area to talk quickly.  
  
Cundariel made introductions. Eldarion's eyes lingered for a long time on Aeargil, and she looked at him with undivided attention. Then he shook Gwalas' hand, and Tasarian's.  
  
He spoke to all of them, but mostly directed his words to Celebros and Cundariel. 'My father is here, yes - there's a situation in the Outer City that he's checking on. There always is. He'll be back in an hour or so. Of course, by then he'll have heard you're back. Snaga's here too. He's in the Great Library. He seems to have developed a fondness for reading.'  
  
'How's Mother?'  
  
'Worried sick about you,' Eldarion grinned. 'Haven't seen much of your father, though - it's strange. I think he's been asking to have Outside guard recently.'  
  
'Sounds like him, all right,' Celebros nodded. He smiled weakly. 'How about you?'  
  
'Bored out of my mind, mostly,' Eldarion shook his head. 'Things get awfully dull around here without you and your bad luck.' He frowned. 'Would you like to go to your rooms? Cundariel, I think the one you had last time is still empty. The one to the left of that is empty - Tasarian, you can take that. The other two in that area - one of them doesn't have any windows. Very fancy otherwise though. The other is simpler, with a very nice view. Any preference?'  
  
Aeargil looked at Gwalas. 'I'd prefer the one with windows,' Gwalas shrugged, 'but either one would be all right. I don't care.'  
  
Aeargil nodded. 'I'll take the one without windows then,' she said. 'I don't mind. I've lived in a stone cell without windows for a year, and I don't think I'd be able to adjust with windows. Total darkness - much more calm.'  
  
Gwalas shook his head. 'All right.'  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion stared out the window. It was a cloudy and overcast morning, and Celebros was still asleep. No one had filled him in on what had happened, but the boy's practically skeletal appearance and subdued nature told him that whatever it was, it had hit Celebros hard.  
  
He thought about the other companions. Tasarian seemed to be in good health considering he had been imprisoned thirty years; Eldarion's first instinct upon hearing that was that there was no way anyone could have survived that. Obviously, he had been wrong.  
  
Cundariel had come as a surprise to him; something severe had happened to her judging by the white scars marring her face and hands. She didn't seem to be as close as Celebros, though, and it made him wonder if his nephew's pain was more than physical.  
  
Gwalas. Eldarion smiled. Elven, bright red hair, hazel eyes - not exactly typical of an elf. He and Cundariel were the ones his father had asked quietly about what had happened, and it had been Gwalas who respectfully, but in a voice that demanded acceptance, asked if it could wait until the morning. He said there were things that were not for either of them to tell, and that Celebros would need time. He had obviously grown very close to the boy.  
  
Then there was Aeargil. She was also a surprise. He didn't know where they had met her, or where she was from. She looked like she was part elven. Her hair was long and golden, her eyes bluegreen pools, and she seemed...cool and unruffled, as if nothing could upset her. She was very beautiful.  
  
There was a knock on the door. Eldarion started and glanced over to it, then walked over and opened it.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros woke slowly. It had been more than a month since he had slept in a bed, and he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to wake up.  
  
When he finally did, it took him a moment to recognize where he was. He sighed and stood, dressing quickly and sitting down in his chair.  
  
After about five minutes, there was a knock on his door. He sighed; he had rather hoped he'd be left alone for a while. 'Come in,' he called.  
  
The door opened and the King entered, his eyes solemn. 'Good morning,' he said quietly.  
  
Celebros turned his head away and shrugged. 'Yeah, I guess so.'  
  
The King sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. 'Celebros, I don't know what happened,' he said after a moment. 'I don't know what happened to who. I don't know who Gwalas and Aeargil are. Gwalas just said that he was not the one to tell me. Cundariel said something about poison.'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said quietly. 'They were both right. I...I was the one who wasn't right.'  
  
'About what?'  
  
Celebros closed his eyes momentarily and turned to his grandfather. 'I don't even know anymore,' he said quietly. His eyes were haunted, painted, surreality dancing in them and threatening to leap out. 'I...all right. We headed north. We began to cut through the forest. Cundariel and I were resting when Elves came out from the trees. They...said that she could go, and one of them - Gwalas - said it was wrong, that they didn't want to anger Thranduil. I don't remember much after that. They drugged me. Cundariel followed, and that night Gwalas helped her to help me escape.'  
  
He went on for a long time, until the moment before Galadon had stepped out. Then he couldn't continue, and took refuge in staring out the window.  
  
+++++  
  
They all sat a large round table when he came in; Gwalas, Cundariel, Tasarian, Aeargil, King Elessar, Eldarion, Snaga. King Elessar had already summarized what Celebros had told him, and was asking questions about what he had already heard. About the Galadil. About the Methnan'rim. About the bird spies.  
  
Eldarion glanced at Celebros when he opened the door. Gwalas nodded acknowledgment. Aeargil smiled, and Cundariel and Tasarian followed suit. King Elessar didn't even turn around.  
  
No one commented that he was an hour late.  
  
He sat between Gwalas and Eldarion. The King Elessar continued.  
  
'All right, we've heard up to the point where the alarm went off -' Cundariel bowed her head, ashamed. '- but nothing after that. What happened?'  
  
Tasarian looked at Celebros, but the boy was stony faced. His voice soft and wavering, he began. 'Celebros stopped, and we did, too, behind him. Galadon was standing there. He - challenged us to a fight, and Celebros agreed.'  
  
'You agreed to fight with him?' Eldarion asked, incredulous, his voice rising.  
  
'Well, I didn't really have a choice,' Celebros said quietly. 'He was just standing there. I wasn't in a position to politely decline.'  
  
'They were about matched for a while, but Galadon wasn't tiring. He's like that, always. He never gets tired, or has to stop for anything. He knocked Celebros back, against the wall, and Celebros' sword broke. Galadon - raised his sword - and Rilhir jumped in. They fought, and Rilhir got in a very solid blow to the shoulder, and then - Galadon -' He shook his head.  
  
'What?' the King asked softly.  
  
Gwalas continued the tale. 'Galadon stabbed him. In the stomach. With a dagger. Then he ran. We got out. Found some horses. Celebros was already unwell. Galadon's sword was tainted with durthond, and Galadon had cut Celebros' arm and hand. Rilhir was worse at first. We found some goldroot for Celebros. It didn't help Rilhir. He...we couldn't do anything. Celebros' fever was gone. Rilhir - it was three days later when he - Celebros' fever came back then. It receded after a while. There was nothing we could do about it.' Gwalas shuddered a bit, and his voice quieted. 'We were afraid he...' He shook his head.  
  
The King nodded quickly. 'And nothing else happened on the way back?'  
  
'Nothing,' Celebros said quietly. Then he looked unsure. 'Did it?'  
  
'No,' Cundariel agreed.  
  
Snaga spoke at last. 'So...is Galadon still a threat in the north? How badly was he hurt?'  
  
'Badly,' Tasarian said. 'He cried out. He never, never cries out, but he did. It was a deep cut. It will pain him. I think...that after losing us, his supporters will lose some of their faith. They worship him like a god. He was supposed to be invincible. He could do more damage elsewhere.'  
  
'And what about the Mirdon? What was it? What did it do?' Snaga asked.  
  
'It was a tool for him, I believe,' Celebros said. Cundariel looked up at him. 'It was used to channel and control his power. It directed him, helped his precise accuracy.'  
  
Gwalas looked a bit confused. Tasarian nodded. 'Exactly,' he said.  
  
The King nodded and glanced at his grandson. 'Are you feeling better now, Celebros?'  
  
'Yes.' Celebros' voice was hard and emotionless.  
  
'All right. Aeargil, could I talk to you a moment?' The princess nodded, and smiled at Eldarion.  
  
+++++  
  
'Eldarion?' Celebros called, knocking on his uncle's door. There was no answer. He shrugged and turned away to see Eldarion, looking positively ecstatic, practically skipping up the hall.  
  
'What is it?' Celebros asked suspiciously.  
  
Eldarion grinned even more widely. 'Aeargil and I have just - erm - had a little talk.'  
  
Celebros had a feeling he knew what was coming. Grinning, he said, 'Don't tell me -'  
  
Eldarion nodded, trying not to bounce up and down. 'We're getting married.' ----------------------- [1] Armor worn on the forearms. They were most often made of leather, but occasionally one of metal was found. They were a very common type of armor, worn by Men, Dwarves, and Elves. Bowmen used these to protect their arms from the backlash of the bow. Swordsman used it to stop or slow their opponent's blade from sliding down their sword and injuring their hands and wrists. [2] Armor protecting the tops of the feet. [3] Armor that protects the thighs. 


	3. Book Two: Heirs of the King

Prologue  
  
Heirs of the King  
  
The October moon was swinging high above the horizon, yet still it was orange. The city of Edoras, where the King Eomer dwelled, was not completely quiet. The guards at the gate muttered only occasionally to each other, and every sixty minutes the call would ring out from the tower on the north side of the city. An elf approached the city slowly, limping on his left foot, and heard the loud cry, 'Eleven o'clock and all is well!'  
  
The elf smiled. All is well, he agreed silently, for me. His was a bone- chilling smile of a killer, and it creeped into the chips of brown in his eyes. An icy sapphire would have fit his face better, a breathfreezing blue, pale to match his worn robes. Once, he knew it was obvious, they had been fine and rich, but now they were weatherstained and ragged. The leather band sometimes worn by a warrior or a wise man made a mark on his forehead, pulling back unnaturally dark, grimy hair.  
  
His boots, heavy from steel toes, made a clunk in the dirt that was uncommon, almost unheard of for elves. The limp was painfully obvious, but it hardly bothered him any longer. It was his shoulder that pained him, the gash wound given to him by a traitor. He remembered in a reddish haze; the sword swinging down heavily onto his shoulder, and his cry of amazement and pain, and his flight when he had made his move. It hurt him to think of his retreat almost as much as the shoulder. He was not a man to give in.  
  
Aloud, he muttered the same thing he had thought for the last months. 'I almost had him. The fools, another instant and he would have been dead! I hate him, and they stopped me from exacting my revenge. They must pay, pay for what they have done to me.' The slash on his shoulder agreed, fiery and fierce. His face remained cold and impassive.  
  
His black-gloved hand hit the huge doors heavily. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. A yell came from within. 'Who is it?' a voice called harshly. 'No entrances after nightfall!'  
  
'It is urgent that I see the King,' he proclaimed firmly. 'Please, I am injured -' Even if his leg did not hurt. '- and I was attacked. I have news he must hear.'  
  
'Your name?'  
  
'I am Malgalad.' This was not planned, but a spur-of-the-moment name...it sounded believable.  
  
'We must ask our superior.'  
  
'Please hurry.' He tried to make his calm voice sound urgent. 'Please, I need treatment.'  
  
There was a long silence, and his injured leg went numb. Then out of the darkness he heard, 'All right, stranger, move back.' He did so, and the doors swung slowly open. Three guards stood before the door, seven were cranking it open with a large wheel. 'Enter.'  
  
He did so, letting the limp show. 'Please, could I be shown to a place of healing? I was attacked by bandits on my way here, a few hours ago, but could not take time to deal with it properly.' His eyes were softened; more like onyx than diamond.  
  
'Certainly.' The man who appeared to be in the lead motioned for one of the men to take him, a taller quiet-looking man. 'That way,' the lead man said, and the doors crashed shut. The men at the wheel, sweating, sighed and wrung out their hands. 'But I must tell you this is very much against protocol. I do not know whether you will gain an audience with the King.'  
  
'Does the King have an advisor?'  
  
'No; he sorely needs one, but denies it,' the tall man leading him said. 'You are surely not an advisor?'  
  
'Of sorts, I am, but I have not come for that.'  
  
'Ah well. Here we are...there. I do not know if anyone is still there, or if we will have to go and get them...how bad is your injury?'  
  
Slowly, 'Malgalad' drew up the corner of his robe. The inner part was stained a cherry-red, and the strip of cloth around it was coming off. The other man's jaw dropped and he hissed.  
  
'How do you walk on that, man?' he asked incredulously.  
  
'My message could not wait until next afternoon. I have news of an attack, possibly - orcs gathering, they were near Minas Tirith and began marching this way. I made it ahead of them. Minas Tirith could not deal with them all. I think they are coming here, and they are almost three days behind me.'  
  
The man looked ready to faint. Without prompting, the door opened and a woman motioned them in. 'What is the matter?' she asked briskly.  
  
'My leg. I was attacked outside the city. I am a stranger.'  
  
'Aye, I see that. Is it bad?'  
  
'Yes.' His voice was cool, but he forced a note of pain into it. 'A knife- cut. It is deep and poorly cared for.' How he had gotten it may have been the truth, but he didn't care; it had helped him into the city, and being who and what he was, it did not bother him. He could have healed it himself if he needed to.  
  
'All right then, sit down here.' There was a dark table in the center of the small room; he settled onto it and feigned a wince. The woman carefully uncovered the wound and let her breath out in a hiss. ''Tis not looking good. I don't know how ye can walk on it.'  
  
He said nothing, but the woman looked suspicious, almost. Uncertain. 'I've not seen the likes of this for a good time. I'll have to poultice it, and it'll hurt like something wicked, but it could get infected elsewise. I'm afraid we don't have the skill Men have been reputed for, everyone hearing of the King Elessar in Gondor. I've heard his skill is greater than we've seen since his line was broken all those long years ago. Centuries.' As she spoke she took some jars off the shelves on one wall.  
  
'So where are ye from?' Her tone was genuinely curious. 'What brings you to these parts?'  
  
'I'm a refugee from the north, driven out by Galadon's men. I've come with an urgent message for the King Eomer.'  
  
A sour look came across the woman's face as he mentioned the name Galadon. 'Ah, 'tis a hard life. That Galadon making mischeif? I heard rumor from Minas Tirith that the King's grandson had rescued some prisoners from him, including the princess of Methnan, and I say good for him. Nice boy, that Celebros, and good riddance to Galadon...we heard all about Celebros' rescue, o' course, when she took to Elessar's son Eldarion. Do ye know anything about that?'  
  
'I heard of it,' he said carefully.  
  
'Do ye know anyone taken by that scoundrel, that filth?'  
  
'Yes, my brothers. Not taken, though.'  
  
'Oh, my. He didn't -'  
  
'That is what we think.' The guard, standing silent by the door, stared hard at him. A twinge came from the elf's leg, and he winced, only part sincere. It did hurt a bit. He was not as used to pain, not like that, but it reminded him of the shoulder, and he winced again. The woman sighed, and began wrapping his leg tightly with a soft but tough cloth.  
  
'Now,' she said, 'Ye'll need to be careful with this one. It won't be able to do hard work for a time -'  
  
'Of course not...thank you very much.'  
  
'I hope you've brought the good King some good news about Galadon,' she said quietly, and the guard motioned him out.  
  
So that was how the people thought of him. A scoundrel and a mischeif- maker...he would show them mischeif-maker, before he was done. A small smile, concealed and almost gloating, found its way onto his face.  
  
And he had learned, too. That boy, he was the King of Gondor's grandson. Young as he was, the boy fought well, a worthy opponent, though of course easy to corner...his weakness lay there, in the rapt attention he paid to the forms. It did not come naturally to him, then. He was unaware of what else was going on around him, and that was an advantage.  
  
His own young cousin, the girl, had naturally told him of the escape from the Galadil. They would search for him, then, and try to kidnap him again, and take him to be executed as they did with all the escapees. The traitors like Cundariel's friend Gwalas Windleaf...all of this could be used to his advantage. He did not easily forget such things.  
  
His chain of thought was suddenly broken by the guard's quiet voice. 'I am not permitted to let you disturb the King at this time. You must wait until dawn.'  
  
'You do not understand.' Feigned distress came automatically. 'I must see him. I must!'  
  
'The King is sleeping. No one will wake him; this is as good as law here, in Edoras. Anyone to awake him would surely be met with his wrath, and since he became king with the passing of the late esteemed King Theoden, his temper has been bad. He will take advice from no one but the King Elessar and the captain of the guards, Hara son of Hama, and even they are ignored some-times. No one will dare awake him. You must wait, just a few hours. You will be provided with a room; you can rest for the three hours to dawn.'  
  
'There is no getting around this, I suppose. Very well. But could the King be informed immediately when he wakes that I must speak with him?'  
  
'Does he know you?'  
  
'No, I have never been here since the days of King Theoden, and then I did not meet him, I merely passed through.'  
  
'What should he be told then, sir?'  
  
'Tell him what you wish. A stranger has arrived in town with urgent news for him, and must speak with him immediately.'  
  
+++++  
  
The King Eomer stared over his steepled fingers at the stranger sitting calmly before him. 'And you say they may attack us?'  
  
'I am saying they will, my lord.'  
  
'You are certain of this.' It was not a question.  
  
'I am.' The man's hand spasmed suddenly and he touched his shoulder.  
  
'Is there something wrong?' Genuine concern painted the King's voice. Strange concern. Too much. Galadon, Malgalad, had to conceal the smile at this. The King still had his own conci-ousness, for now at least, and a smile would make him suspicious.'  
  
'An old wound, my lord. It was never properly treated, and it pains me still.'  
  
'I see.'  
  
'I have heard, my lord, that you have no advisors, yet I beg you to find one. In this time, when a crisis may be imminent, you need someone solely for that purpose, if I may be so bold as to say so. Someone with a skilled tongue, and who is wise about the ways of the world, who has seen it, but is not too old; someone who will be with you to the ends of your days.'  
  
'Someone with a skilled tongue...' A strange look came across Eomer's face, almost confused, and his eyes flickered up to meet the stranger's. 'Like you.'  
  
'Oh, my lord, I am afraid I have other things to attend to.' Eomer didn't notice the smile on the man's face, so intent was he on the eyes. But even when the triumph reached the man's eyes it was unnoticed.  
  
'Would you have me beg you? 'Twould be most distressing to my men, but I will. There is no one else I can think of; I trust few people in this day. Please, I do need an advisor, already you have given me the kind of advice that I need.'  
  
Triumph.  
  
3 December, 58 FA  
  
The knock came again on Celebros' door, more urgent. He sighed resignedly. Another servant, no doubt. It was tiresome, to have them bothering him day and night. He pushed himself out of the chair, marked his book, and walked over to the door. It creaked as he opened it, peering out. It was not, in fact, a servant there, but Gwalas, looking very excited. He rarely came into this part of Minas Tirith, being busy with matters in the Outer City. 'Eldarion and Aeargil's child has been born. A son. Eldarion asked me to tell you, and the King and Queen. They are in the second wing, if you want to see them.' He hurried on around the corner. Celebros went quickly back into the room, donned his better shirt and a pair of boots, and hurried over to the second wing. It was down three levels and to the right that he finally found the correct room. Aeargil was not there, but sleeping in another room, but Eldarion was. A small bundle of blankets was in his arms. Celebros hurried over and Eldarion looked up. His face was lit in a huge smile. 'Celebros!' he said warmly. 'I was hoping you would come.' Celebros nodded in return and looked at the tiny baby in Eldarion's arms. 'A son?' he asked. 'Yes. The doctors said he was a bit smaller than was usual, but there doesn't appear to be anything else wrong with him, does there?' He grinned at the child, who was making small gurgling sound and squirming slightly. 'No. Have you and Aeargil decided what to name him yet?' 'Meneldil,' Eldarion said, looking up from his son, who was apparently trying to grab hold of his father's hair. 'As active a child as we could hope for, too. Ah!' Meneldil had finally succeeded in pulling Eldarion's long hair. 'Strong, too,' he said with a laugh. Celebros stayed for a while longer. After he had been there about five minutes, King Elessar and Queen Arwen Evenstar arrived. The Queen was very glad indeed to have a second grandchild. 'The first is getting too grown,' she said with an almost mischevous smile at Celebros. 'What are you naming him?' 'Meneldil. After Anarion's son, you know, Mother.' 'It fits him.' The King spoke to Eldarion for a time while Arwen held the child. Eldarion's smile faded for a moment, then he resumed his grin. 'Very well,' Celebros heard him say. 'What is to be done?' 'Cundariel and Tasarian have returned from Eryn Lasgalen. I believe I can arrange for them to be among the guide. I will be at ease. Eldarion, you seem to underestimate...' The words faded, and Celebros, although interested, turned his attention back to Meneldil, who now had a hold on the Queen's long dark hair.  
  
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Later that day, the King Elessar himself came to see Celebros, and it was then that the young man understood what he had overheard. 'I have received a message,' he began, 'that alerted me that another enemy is on the move. There is some evil at work, and I think -' He broke off, searching for the right words. At last he said: 'I have been informed that there is something within the City, a spy or an assasin. My connections have informed me that something is after you; a minion of Galadon perhaps. I am going to send you to Imladris, to Rivendell. Elladan and Elrohir are returning there soon. They will go with you, and several others. I am not sure precisely whom or how many others will accompany you, but I believe that the sooner you go, the better. It will be a very long journey. I believe it would be safe to say that you should leave within the week. I would send you to Ithilien, or someplace nearer, but before long there would be the same problem, and I do not have as many sources there.' He paused, and through his strong mask, worry and fear broke through and flitted across his face. He pushed them away. Celebros thought, If he is afraid for me, then I should be terrified. And in a certain sense he was. But he was also filled with a determined resignation, and a sudden excitement. He had never been to Imladris before, and had aleays wished to. Now, at last, he would see it...  
  
12 December, 58 FA  
  
It was the third night since the company guarding Celebros had left the City. They had traveled hard, and far, and the horses were somewhat antsy. Celebros glanced around the fireside. There were more here than he was used to traveling with, as the most he had been with in the past year was six, and then only for three days. There were eight people crowded around the small fire now. It was cold, being the twelfth day of December. All of them were wearing the heavy winter clothing given to them by the King, and even the Elves seemed to be shivering. There was a light powdery snow on the ground, and the horses were stamping. It had been almost impossibly hard to light a fire, with the temperature and the wind. It never got this cold in these parts. Some force was at work, something unknown. Tasarian and Cundariel were on either side of Celebros. Tasarian was engaged in a conversation with Gwalas, who was crouched next to him, and by Cundairel Elladan and Elrohir were speaking quietly to each other in Sindarin, with her occasionally putting something in. Pernathos, a Guard, was listening to Snaga, who was telling him about some adventure or another. The little orc had had a great deal of them since he had befriended the King. Celebros alone was silent, staring into the fire. There was something that was bothering him, but he did not voice it to any of the others. The fact was that he didn't know quite why it worried him. A sudden, sharp laugh brought him out of his reverie. Snaga's tale had apparently amused Pernathos, Celebros noted dryly. Elladan and Elrohir suddenly stood up, and the others quieted. 'We should rest,' Elladan said. 'We will be traveling far tomorrow, and fast. Who will take first watch?' 'I can,' Pernathos said musingly. 'I have not, yet. Who will be second?' 'I will, I think.' Gwalas looked around. 'Third?' 'Third,' Tasarian said quietly. 'I will take fourth.' Cundariel glanced at her younger brother with a hint of a smile. 'Will there be a fifth, tonight, Elladan?' 'No, I think not. We shall not need it.' Celebros soon fell asleep, weighing matters on his mind uneasily.  
  
13 December, 58 FA  
  
'We make for the Gap of Rohan,' Elrohir said, looking around to make sure everyone was listening, 'then head up on the west side of the Misty Mountains. The east side is too dangerous. I have heard tell that spies and other folk are gathering there.' 'We may reach Imladris by the beginning of February, but no sooner,' Gwalas said slowly. 'It will likely take two and one-half weeks just to reach the Gap.' 'Three weeks, about, if we keep on like this,' Elladan informed them. 'If, that is, we ride from about this time in the morning until slightly before sunset, with reasonable breaks. Let us ride, now.' With a groan, Celebros mounted his horse. It was not Halbarad, his usual, but a grey one, Silverstream. He was reliable and steady, but not as used to riding hard. With a sigh, he thought of the weeks ahead. By the time they reached Imladris, he would be too saddle-sore to ride for a year to come. By the time they rode off, the sun was already fully above the horizon, and the thin mist was burning off. By the time they stopped at night, the sun was hovering over the skyline. It had been a good day, and was very much like those that were to come for days yet.  
  
20 December, 58 FA  
  
'We are ahead of schedule,' Elladan announced at dinner one night. 'We will reach the Gap of Rohan in roughly nine days now. That is well.' Celebros, hardly listening, huddled closer ot the fire. It was still well into December, and would stay cold for a time yet, but it had stopped snowing, and the winter sun shone. It was cheerier than clouds, but seemed almost a mockery in this cold. Celebros shivered. Not only was he hungry, tired, cold, and saddlesore, but there was not much to do. He would pace about the campsite, or tell stories, until it was time to sleep. There were heavy blanketrolls, although they were sometimes wet from snow, but no shelter save the trees. Nothing had happened in quite a long time. They had met no danger, luckily, but there was also seemingly nothing else. It sometimes appeared that they were the only ones alive. They had seen few birds, for they had all migrated away, and now even the sight of a snow hare or some such winter creature was rare. Another shiver ran through him. It was not snowier and... more deserted than he would have liked. He wondered if it had anything to do with Galadon, and shivered again, remembering the hazy awfullness of the days surrounding the escape from Mount Gundabad. Could it be Galadon? Had he that much power? No, of course not. He may be powerful, the young man thought, shivering again and remembering the time he had dueled with the Elf, but he surely cannot control the weather. He stood up and paced around the clear space where they had stopped once, then lay down and tried to sleep. The others were still up, around the fire and talking softly. For once, Elladan and Elrohir were not speaking in their native language. Slowly, Celebros drifted into uneasy sleep, hardly awake, yet aware that someone from around the fire was watching him.  
  
21 December, 58 FA  
  
Eldarion glanced out over the City again. He would rather have been with Meneldil, but his small son was resting, and Aeargil was tired. The Tower of Ecthelion was tall, and gave him a view of the entire City. The sun was high in the sky, and the breeze was cold. He wrapped his cloak about himself and descended back to his family's chambers where Aeargil and Meneldil were. His wife was probably done resting by now: he had been on top of the Tower since morning. As he neared his chambers, though, he could tell something was amiss. The servants rushing back and forth seemed distressed. He stopped one of the maids and asked her what was going on. 'The baby,' she whispered, and broke away, hurrying the opposite direction. Eldarion's heart froze when he heard these words, and he pushed his way through the corridor to his rooms, banging open the door. One of the maids was sitting in a chair next to Aeargil. His breath caught as he saw her. She was crying, sobbing, and nothing the maid was saying could comfort her. Eldarion hurried over, catching the maid's shoulder. She turned and looked at him, anxiety painted over her face. Before she could open her mouth, he gently drew her up out of the chair. 'My son,' he whispered hoarsely. 'The lady woke up from her sleep,' the trembling woman told him, 'and went to check on the baby, and found he was not breathing. Please, my lord, is there anything to be done? She will not speak to me, or to anyone, and the entire Inner City is distressed at this. I do not know what to do!' 'Thank you very much,' he whispered, 'and you may go. I will - I shall do what I - what I can.' The maid hurried out of the room. Aeargil looked up at him, her face red and tearstained. 'I just woke up,' she sobbed, 'and he wasn't -' A lump rose in Eldarion's throat, and he closed his eyes. After a moment Aeargil went on. 'Meneldil - they took his - they - Tell me this is a dream! Now! It isn't real. My son, my baby - Please, Eldarion! Please -' Eldarion took a breath, and another, trying to steady himself. His head reeled, he wanted to fall to the ground, to scream, Yes, it's a dream, Elbereth, let me wake up! He pulled himself over to where Aeargil sat, her head in her hands, shaking harder than he would have believed imaginable, and he sat down next to her. She looked up again at him. He took her hand, fighting back the wave that was threatening to envelope him. She raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek, tracing the path of the single tear that had just run across it. 'It's real, isn't it?' she whispered, closing her eyes and biting her lip. She rested her beautiful head against his chest. He stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead. They sat together for a long time, an hour, a thousand hours. Finally she stopped shaking. Eldarion looked down through his own blurred eyes and saw that she was asleep. He sighed heavily. Meneldil... He shook his head fiercely. He would not think of that now. That was for later. A hesitant knock came on the door. 'Come in,' he said thickly. The door opened slowly. The hallway was all but empty now, but the person who stood at the door was both the first and the last person he wanted to see: his father. He brushed his sleeve over his eyes and looked up again. The King's face was grave and sad. 'Can I...' he said slowly. Eldarion nodded, standing up carefully, so as not to wake Aeargil. 'I only heard about ten minutes ago,' his father said softly. 'I was taking care of a situation in the Outer City.' Eldarion looked down and nodded. He did not want his father to see his eyes, although he knew that was foolishness. 'Eldarion,' King Elessar said quietly. He looked up again slowly into his father's sympathetic eyes. 'You don't have to hide,' his father said after a long pause. There was an almost hurt look on his face. 'Come here.' There was a moment's hesitation. Eldarion looked almost pleadingly into his father's eyes, as if asking him to withdraw his request, but all that happened was that the hurt look in the King's eyes spread over his whole face. Eldarion shut his eyes breifly once more, then walked over to his father. The King put his hands on his son's shoulders. 'Your mother wants to talk to you later, Eldarion. You and Aeargil both, I believe. I would like to talk with you more, too, but it will have to wait. I have to find some way to calm the people. They are all very distressed. I saw people in the streets...This has affected everyone. I must go. If you want to talk later...I don't know. I have never been faced with this kind of situation before.' The King slowly drew away from his son, released his shoulders, and hurried out of the room.  
  
28 December, 58 FA  
  
Celebros glanced at Elrohir. Elladan had gone out to see how far they were from the Gap, and the Elf was silent, apparently deep in thought. 'Will we reach the Gap tomorrow, do you think?' he asked awkwardly. 'Yes, it is likely.' Elrohir did not look up, and his voice was soft and slow. Celebros did not try to talk to them any more. After around an hour, Elladan hurried back. His footwear, light and thick, was covered in a heavy snow, that evidently was deeper than that which was in this site. 'We will reach the Gap around midday tomorrow, I think,' he said, apparently quite excited. 'It will be around three or four weeks before we reach Imladris. Sleep, now! We shall start early tomorrow. As he had seldom done since leaving Minas Tirith, Celebros slept easy and deep that night.  
  
29 December, 58 FA  
  
Celebros awoke with a groan, keeping his eyes shut. He could feel the deep snow beneath him; it must have snowed, and they must have moved him. There was movement around him. Why hadn't they woken him up? He opened his eyes, and they slowly widened. He was no longer in the site. His hands were tied firmly, and the figures moving around him were definitely not his companions. One of them turned, and Celebros' eyes widened. They were Elves. Immediately everything clicked into place. The Galadil. He had been taken again. A growl rose in his throat, and a sudden blossom of fear. 'He's awake,' the Elf grunted to another. Three of them turned, and cold eyes glared at him. With a grimace, Celebros remebered that the last time he had been captured, they had referred to him as 'it'. 'He' was a definate improvement, he thought wildly. It was quite cold. He realized he was not wearing his heavy cloak any longer, or any of his other winter wear. He was lying on a thin blanket. He shivered, and stifled a groan, his teeth clenched. The ropes on his arms were cutting into his wrists. 'He's harmless,' one of them smirked. 'That's what we said last time, and it got Aearos a bruised face and lost us Gwalas. And Brethil nearly killed the guards. Don't underestimate these ones. They can be dangerous, eh, little one?' Celebros realized that the Elf was asking him for an answer. Afraid, he did not reply. 'Eh? You can speak, don't pretend you can't. We followed your group for two days. I cannot believe the company our folk will endure! An orc, and men! Filthy!' The Elf spat on the ground in disgust. 'Now answer me, little one,' he said softly, advancing on Celebros. 'Are your folk dangerous?' With another groan, unsure what to do but paralyzed with fear, the young man shrugged slowly. 'Some,' he croaked, throat dry. 'See how dangerous you will be after we have had our way with you!' the Elf growled, and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. Seemingly satisfied, he turned and walked away. The others followed without a word, leaving Celebros on the ground.  
  
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'Where is he?' Gwalas cried, slumped against a tree, worry etched in every line of his face. 'He would not leave. He knows better. His pack is still here! Where has he gone, or been taken?' Elladan stopped pacing. Looking up, he glanced around as if afraid someone else might have disappeared. 'I see the footprints,' he said quietly, 'of two Elves. Light footprints, and quick, bearing some weight. And the horses, of course: they took all of them. But they are not good trackers.' Gwalas flinched as if he had been slapped, and squeezed his eyes shut, despair on his face. 'The Galadil,' he murmered. 'But they never come this far south.' 'Apparently they do,' Tasarian said quietly, his head bowed in thought. 'Why? Surely they would not come this much out of their way to capture a single boy who had escaped them.' Cundariel sounded definitely strained. Gwalas was shaking his head. 'You do not know their way, Cundariel,' he said sadly. 'I did not think of it. Once they have a being escape, although it seldom happens, they will hunt him to the end of the world. They never let anyone go. And it likely injured Brethil's pride, which was that no prisoner under his eye had ever escaped. In addition to the fact that it lost them me. If I may say so, I was a fairly valuable asset, with tracking and healing. Few of them are skilled in these arts.' 'Can you track them, then?' Pernathos asked quietly. 'Can you find the boy? I would not lose him. He is young, and when King Elessar dies - no time soon, I hope! - and Prince Eldarion is crowned, he will be needed in the Kingdom. He is to be an advisor of sorts, I have heard. Intelligence is the key. He has the wisdom and insight that many have never seen in one so young.' 'I would not lose the King's faith in us,' Snaga grunted firmly. 'Can they be tracked?' 'I do not think so,' Elladan said dispiritedly. 'They are not very good trackers, but they are not easy to track; they are skilled at least in hiding their steps. I think what we should do is send some to attempt to follow and some to the City. I will try to follow, I think, and Elrohir and Cundairel and Tasarian. The rest of you should return to the City and inform King Elessar and Prince Eldarion what has happened. They will better decide what to do. Is this agreed?' There was a chorus of 'yes', and they hurried to pack.  
  
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'Get up!' Celebros opened his eyes again. Even that movement was painful. They were apparently not worried about invoking wrath any longer. He tried to rise, but was unsteady and unable to push himself up with is hands tied. He stumbled and fell onto his face with a cry. Rough hands seized his arms, making him cry out again, and he was hauled to his feet. He tripped and almost fell again, but one hand grabbed his arm, and with a wrench stopped the fall. He felt the bonds being cut, and barely contained a sigh of relief. The ropes fell from his wrists. He shivered with a flinch. The wind was hard and sharp, and it was bitter cold. One of the Elves gripped the back of his neck. 'Turn around,' said a rough voice. Shivering, the terrified young man did as he was told. It was impossible to see the face of the Elf that was before him, for it was wrapped tight to prevent injury from the cold. 'You will obey well, and you will not be punished more than we feel necessary,' he said in a cold voice, stroking his belt knife leisurely, as if it was something he used frequently. Celebros swallowed. 'What is your name, boy?' 'Cele - Celebros,' he chattered. 'Interesting. Where do you come from?' There was a pause as the younger speaker swallowed nervously. 'Minas Tirith,' he whispered. The Elf looked coldly at him. 'Filthy city. Not enough life, and that which there is is that of Men.' Celebros was about to protest that the White City had more people than they could count when he thought better of it. 'Are you noble, or such?' 'No,' he invented. 'My parents are poor, and we are not of a house.' 'Yet you have an escort of seven others to lead you to Imladris?' The Elf backhanded Celebros, sending him sprawling on the ground. 'The truth.' 'My grandfather is King Elessar Telcontar,' Celebros said through clenched teeth, breathing fast. The ice was hard, and jagged, and a small stream of blood crept down his cheek as he pushed himself up. 'Telcontar,' the Elf mused. He had opened his mouth to ask another question when another Elf shouted from behind him, 'Lord Eldir! We must hurry on!' Eldir gave Celebros a cold look. 'Later,' he said shortly. He commanded several of his Elves to watch the boy and then went off to the front. They traveled north.  
  
30 December, 58 FA  
  
When Celebros was painfully aroused, he found that he had nearly been buried by a new layer of freshly-fallen snow. It was very cold, and his clothing was wet. They had at least wrapped him in a blanket, to prevent him from freezing to death, but obviously meant to keep him on the edge. It was Eldir who woke him, using the method Celebros had half-expected - a quick, hard kick in the ribs. Once again, however, he was not able to rise, and once again he was pulled to his feet roughly. 'Now,' Eldir snarled, 'I will continue where we left off.' He pulled back his hand again and punched the boy, hard, making him fly through the air and skid on the ground, moaning. 'Truth is a major factor, you see,' the Elf said with a smile that was anything but pleasant, 'and you will suffer worse than that if you do not give it to me. Make me believe it. Where were you going, and who were the members of your company?' 'Going to Imladris. I was with...' He paused, and Eldir's eyes narrowed. Hastily he finished, 'with Cundariel of the North and her brother Tasarian, Pernathos, a Guard of the City, Snaga, a renegade orc who renounced the ways of his people, the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and Gwalas Windleaf, a companion we met on our travels.' He held his breath. When Gwalas' name was mentioned, Eldir's eyes widened and an expression of digust and fury flickered across his smooth face. 'Gwalas,' he hissed softly. 'Do not try to hide him from us, child. He will be punished adequately by the captains,' he muttered suddenly, as if it was a reminder. 'And the sons of Elrond. These we know. The others, they are not as, let us say, important?' 'They are very important. They are the King's friends, messangers, and advisors, and our kingdom would sorely miss them.' 'They would be missed.' He sighed resignedly, and then thought a moment. 'What about you?' He sounded almost eager. 'You are important too?' 'I told you - yes, I am the King's grandson.' 'Yes...' The Elf seemed distracted, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Eldir frowned, looking down at the ground. Celebros opened his mouth to say something and found himself suddenly on his back. The Elf had not hit him this time, merely swept his legs out from under him. 'Speak when you're spoken to, child. Not before, and not while, but directly after.' There was a silence. 'I said directly after, didn't you hear? Do you have that fixed in mind?' A vicious kick hit Celebros' side. 'Do you have that? Absolutely clear, child?' He waited for the blow, but it did not come. He opened his eyes. 'Yes.' It was a pitiful whisper. 'You see?' Eldir's voice was soft. 'I can be reasonable. I do not want to kill you yet. You may be useful. Would you like some food?' Yet, Celebros thought. May be. 'Yes,' he said quickly. He had not noticed how hungry he was until food had been mentioned. Some kind of meat, that was certain, but he did not think he wanted to know what kind.  
  
31 December, 58 FA  
  
Celebros was shaking. It was freezing cold. The bitter wind cut through his ragged clothes and ruffled his hair. They had been moving fast, against the wind, and his eyes were stinging and watering. Breathing was hard, in this cold. One of them came up to him again, forcing a liquid into his mouth, making him swallow. The one who did this then held his neck until he had choked it down. The fingers found his pulse. A face loomed nearer to his. The Elf turned, his hands still on the boy's neck, to another. 'He's weakening,' he said, and looked back at the boy. Tired. Maybe he could just sleep. Eldir was nowhere near. He would not know. And suddenly he thought perhaps the hard ice would be comfortable. Nice and soft, like his bed in Minas Tirith. Maybe if he slept, he would dream of the City. He felt he fingers release his neck, and he crumpled to the ice. His eyes closed. His small form shivered even in sleep.  
  
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Eldir could not remember the name of the Elf who turned to face him after the Man fell asleep. It was one of the few who he knew he could trust. 'The Man shows remarkable resistance,' the other Elf said. 'He is stronger than the last one. I am almost surprised he still speaks to us, with the treatment you have given him. I do not question you, but I do not see the need to be so hard on him; he is young and more harmless than the others believe. We do not want to incur the wrath of Gondor and Thranduil both, much less at the same time. Should I cover him? Myself, I would think it would be wise. He is no use to us dead, and more trouble injured.' Eldir was silent for a moment. What the Elf said made sense, yet something held him back. 'Yes. Your words are sensible. Cover him.'  
  
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Cundariel stumbled again and sat down heavily against the drift of snow. 'It is useless,' she muttered. Elrohir stopped, turned and came back to where she was with less difficulty, and sat down beside her. He looked at her once, then away, waiting for her to say something more. 'We've been following two days now,' she went on bitterly. 'We have found no trace of them, because the snow is drifting. For all we know, they could have turned aside after the first few hours. We could be following shadows.' Elrohir looked at her again. 'We are not following shadows,' he said, 'we are following Celebros Telcontar and his kidnappers.' 'How do we know we are following them? The snow is deep enough, they could have already...done just about anything to him. It is not right! He may be of age according to the Men's customs, but he is still too young. I do not see why they are so concerned about taking him.' 'They are the Galadil,' Elrohir said simply. He searched her face quickly. 'We know we are following them because they would not go back to Eryn Lasgalen. They will follow this path, and stay to it until they achieve their purpose.' 'What you mean is, until either they kill the boy or they get a ransom or piece of information from him.' 'They will not kill the boy outright unless they discover we are close and cannot escape.' 'And aren't we trying to get close?' 'We are trying to get close without them discovering it. And even then I do not think they will kill him. I believe they will hold him until they get something out of him or us. We should continue now, Cundariel. They are getting farther away while we wait.'  
  
1 January, 59 FA  
  
Celebros took another painful breath and opened his eyes. The Elves were moving around the site, but it still seemed to be early. They had wrapped him in some sort of thick blanket, but it was still very cold. One of them looked his way, turned, and shouted something to one of the other Elves, presumably Eldir, but the words were lost in the roar of the wind. Yet again, snow had collected around him while he slept. He had had time to clear a bit of it away when Eldir came over. 'We have made a discovery, boy,' he said softly. 'Some of those from your escort are following us. Several Elves, and none of them Gwalas. A pity. Your friends?' 'I suppose they are.' 'You suppose? Well, well. I am going to ask you a few more questions, and you will answer truthfully. Won't you?' Celebros swallowed and nodded. 'Good,' the Elf laughed. 'You see how easily Men are quashed? Meek beings, your folk, and quite weak too. Now, first of all, I would like you to describe to me the King's family.' This puzzled Celebros, but he told the truth without questioning. 'King Elessar Telcontar married Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond. Their first child was Eldarion. He quite recently married Aeargil daughter of Tarmamethnan, and they very recently had a son Meneldil. King Elessar's second child was a daughter Malgil. Malgil married a Man Caladin, and I am their only child. The King also has two other young daughters, the youngest of which only came of age ten years ago. Neither of them are married.' 'This Eldarion,' Eldir said shrewdly, 'what does he look like?' 'He is tall by our standards, with long brown hair and blue eyes, and a swordsmaster.' 'Who was in your escort, and what do they look like?' 'Cundariel of the North, with long golden hair and bluegrey eyes, an excellent archer,' Celebros said slowly, trying to picture her. He could not do it. 'Her younger brother Tasarian, with shoulder-length blonde hair that has several brown streaks. He has grey eyes. Thirty-one years ago he was kidnapped, and only in the past few years escaped. Snaga, a very small, nimble orc with yellow-green eyes. Pernathos, a guard of the City. He has short brown hair and green eyes, and is a good swordsman.' 'Short hair like yours?' 'Yes.' 'Who else?' 'There were Elladan and Elrohir, twins, the sons of Elrond. They -' 'I know what Elladan and Elrohir look like,' Eldir said dismissively, waving his hand. 'And who else?' 'Gwalas -' 'Of course, I had almost forgotten. I know what Gwalas looks like, child. He was a companion of mine for many years. Cundariel, she is a good friend of yours?' 'Yes.' 'How well do you know each other? I mean to say, how long?' 'I met her in...some time in March in the year 57.' 'Almost two years, then. You say you travel with an orc? They are disgusting. Foul, and evil.' 'Snaga deserted. He left his band of orcs and renounced their ways.' 'I have never heard of this happening before. Very well, child, you have answered all my questions so far truthfully, to my knowledge. Now I will tell you this. I have the ability and forces right now to go and kill all of your friends. The reason I do not is because currently they are no threat to us, and because you are being helpful. I do not think you would be if we killed them, and I could not stop you from finding out. If you defy me, boy, I can kill not only them, but likely your precious Eldarion, and your parents, and this Aeargil and her son. They cannot stay in Minas Tirith forever, you know. If you defy me, you will lose them.' Celebros shivered under Eldir's glare. After a moment the Elf spoke again. 'But you have obeyed well, for the present, and been very useful. For this you shall be rewarded.' He called another Elf over, and this one gave Celebros some food. 'I can be reasonable, child. Listen, and hope that your friends do not annoy me, and they will be safe. I am afraid I cannot necessarily say the same for you.' There was a wicked smile on Eldir's face as he walked away. The food did not comfort the boy.  
  
4 January, 59 FA  
  
'We cannot continue much longer,' Elladan said quietly, 'and not much farther. We will have to go to Imladris and get more help.' Elrohir did not speak, just stood, staring numbly at his brother. His haunted expression made Tasarian edgy. They would have to go off the trail very soon, he knew. They were running out of food. His sister was sitting in the snow, oblivious of the cold. Her face was drawn and weary, and he knew she had not eaten or slept well for days. She glanced his way and saw that he was looking at her. Her expression was enough to tell him that she was trying to hide her emotions. He knew how much she cared for the boy; after all, he had saved her from the fortress of Galadon. Her, and him, and he sensed that it was as much that he had rescued him as that he had her. Shaking her head, a breif smile touched her face. Too forced. She pushed the hair from her face and turned away again. Elladan continued. 'We are short on food, and we are losing the trail. We need more supplies. We need speed. We cannot continue.' Tasarian nodded. Elladan glanced at him. Elrohir turned to his brother abruptly and said something in Sindarin. It was quiet enough that Tasarian could only catch one word. Wrong. Elladan replied, and Tasarian understood nothing of that, but it was fast. Elrohir looked agaitated, and turning away moved over, away from the others.  
  
6 January, 59 FA  
  
Eldir spoke softly to one of his guards, then turned to Celebros. 'We seem to be very near to my outpost,' he said quietly, with a very nasty grin, 'which is good for us both. You will not be outside any longer for a while, and I can have a proper talk with you.' The way he said talk unnerved Celebros. He hadn't already had a proper talk? His idea of a good talk seemed to be one in which he got a blow in and still got enough information to suit him. Celebros shook his head slowly, trying to clear it and doing just the opposite. Eldir's guard pulled him up by an arm and pushed him forward. 'Move,' the man snarled. Celebros shuffled forward, thinking about being inside once again. In out of the cold. Stifling a yawn, he looked up and saw, in the swirling snow around them, a two-story building. It was white, and silent; there was no one there. They filed into it slowly with Celebros and the guard last. The inside room was dark, and a bit warm. There were three doors leading out of it and a winding stairway leading into darkness. Someone began lighting lamps; Eldir moved toward Celebros. The guards slowly filtered out of the room and through the central door, shutting it tight behind them. Eldir watched them, and when the last was gone he turned to Celebros. 'Follow me,' he said, his voice commanding. It didn't even occur to the boy not to obey. He walked up the stairs, into the darkness. A lamp was lit, and Celebros saw the chamber they were in with a growing sense of anticipation. The door closed with a resounding thump, and Celebros looked across the room at Eldir. To his surprise, his gaze was steady and firm. In the center of the room was a long table with various restraints at the head and foot. Eldir was looking at him, and at something else. With an evil smirk, he motioned his captive forward. Slowly Celebros advanced and rested his hands on the table. Eldir crossed the room from the other side to the table and stood, his eyes narrowed a moment, studying Celebros' face carefully. Then he suddenly said, 'How old are you?' 'Seventeen.' Celebros' voice wavered slightly as he wondered what this room was for. On the other side of the table, right next to Eldir's hand, was a thin black rod. The top end was slightly larger than the bottom. Eldir smiled. 'Only seventeen? When will you be eighteen?' 'I don't know.' Eldir chuckled. 'You don't know?' 'I...I'm not sure. I don't know what the date today is.' Eldir smirked and closed his eyes, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 'Ah, well. It doesn't matter. Do you know how many Galadil there are, Celebros?' Taken aback a moment at the use of his name, all he could do was shake his head. 'Seven thousand four hundred and fifty, approximately,' he said. Celebros' eyes widened. It was a lie, a boast, it had to be. There couldn't be that many of them. 'How many do your people have? How many soldiers? We have all been wondering.' Taking a deep breath, Celebros opened his mouth. Then he realized what he was doing, shook his head, and closed it. 'Perhaps I will have to use this room after all,' Eldir mused, picking up the black rod unconcernedly. 'Let's try again. Who is allied with your city and how many do they have?' Celebros bit his lip, staring at the instrument and realizing how strong the restraints looked. Still, he knew he couldn't give away their alliance. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. 'Last chance, boy,' he heard, a whisper that was nearer to his ear. Eldir was right beside him when he opened his eyes. 'You can't hide it from me forever. I am stronger than you, and we both know it. But you do not accept it. What is the strength of your forces, combined with your allies? I mean steeds, men and Elves, weapons; everything. Abilities. Tactical officers. Your...grandfather. The intelligence of the fighters. Attack positions. Tell me how I may attack the City and win. Or I shall be resorted to using my resources.' There was still a hope, Celebros thought desperately, wasn't there, that he could hold it from Eldir, keep it away. That chance, however slim, had to be tested. If there was any hope for the City, it had to be tried. He clamped his mouth shut. Eldir sighed. 'Ah, well. The difficult way, then.' He didn't sound very concerned. Celebros turned his head ever so slightly to the left to look at him, and then felt a hand close around the back of his neck, the fingers finding his pulses and tightening on them, pushing up. His face was forced down, his cheek hitting the cold table's surface hard. He felt the fingers release his neck, and for a moment thought wildly that maybe - Then the hands roughly seized his wrists, quickly pulling them together and binding them in front of him. He was lifted onto the table and before he could do anything, he felt the restraints being fastened around his ankles...then his stomach...and his shoulders. The table beneath him was hard and unforgiving. He opened his eyes a fraction. Eldir was quickly fumbling with that black rod. He closed his eyes again, breathing hard, the pain in his chest returning. The cold end of the bar touched the side of his neck. Unnaturally cold. Puzzled he wondered what was going on - A searing pain shot through him. The end of the bar had gone from being unusually cold to being fiery hot, like a brand or a hot coal. Slowly but surely, it began to trace a path around the back of his neck. Celebros screamed. The agony was like nothing he had ever known. As instinct he felt himself fighting against the restraints. His head and feet were digging into the table, and his back was arched, straining against the restraints. The tip of the rod came away from his skin. Gasping for breath, his muscles gave out, weak and watery. His body relaxed against the restraints. His eyes were shut loosely. His lungs were burning in addition to his neck. His body trembled weakly, and the cuffs around his wrists seemed to tighten. 'Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?' Eldir's soft voice came drifting through the fog of pain. Celebros took a deep breath, and another, and Eldir allowed it patiently for a minute or two. Then he repeated the question. Celebros' jaw quivered as he took one breath after another. He thought of the questions, and the consequences. Eldarion...the King...the Queen...Cundariel and Tasarian... and Aeargil, and his parents, and Meneldil. He knew he could not give them away. Opening his eyes, shaking, he looked at Eldir, who was staring at his pale, frightened face, and very deliberately and slowly shook his head. Eldir clenched his teeth angrily, and Celebros closed his eyes and felt the cold touch of the rod against his neck again.  
  
7 January, 59 FA  
  
Celebros' body shuddered still. His neck was agony, and he still imagined he could feel the chilling tip of the black bar against it. It was morning, and he had only just woken up from tortured dreams of what was going to happen today. The hard stone beneath him did not bother him. He had not given in, which had greatly surprised Eldir, but still the Elf had persisted. Why hadn't he given in? Was it worth it? Suddenly he perceived the reality of what he had been thinking and his mind rejected the thought fiercely. Of course! His thoughts were frantic and furious with himself. The thought that it wasn't worth it was ludicrous. A tear ran down his cheek as he remembered the thought that had raced through his head as it had violently shaken back and forth when the fiery rod had touched it. He remembered the thoughts clear as day. They had been burned into his mind as his skin was burned. He couldn't give up on his friends, or Eldarion and the King and their families, for that would be the ruin of Men. He couldn't give in, or perhaps Eldir would have no more use for him and he would be killed. He couldn't give in or he would have nothing left to want to live for. What he had done was saved the City. He hadn't realized it at first, but he knew that if he kept the information to himself, then Eldir wouldn't dare to attack the City. The door opened, and an Elf stepped in. His eyes were merciless, and Celebros knew that this was one of the Elves that was a full supporter of Eldir. 'Come on,' the man growled. Standing up was painful, but somehow Celebros managed it, and he followed the man slowly, limping a bit and wincing with every movement. Eldir was in the center of the room; all the other Elves except the one that had led him out were in the room through the second door. The other Elf bowed and left. Eldir smiled; and Celebros shivered, thinking the smile far from friendly. 'How are you feeling today? Up to answering me yet?' Celebros' jaw tightened. He didn't answer, though Eldir's gaze was piercing and merciless. After a moment, the Elf's eyes narrowed and he grinned wickedly. 'No? Not ready yet? Will I be reduced to using my own methods, if the traditional ones do not work? I do not think that would be very easy on you. It generally isn't. The last one couldn't bear it.' 'Who was the last one?' Celebros' voice was quiet and hoarse. 'Now,' Eldir said, his eyes widening in amusement, 'why would you want to know that?' Celebros swallowed and stayed silent, and Eldir snorted. 'Men,' he murmured, turning his back slowly with a sigh. 'You are all the same. Weak, easily beaten down, but yet you will defend yourselves if there is a slight chance you might be blamed. Not hurt - blame is more of a concern. Do you care about death, Celebros son of Caladin? Do you care about the possibility, in your mind, that you will never see Eldarion or his son again? Do you enjoy that thought? I doubt you will fight me. Even if you will, it is always interesting to watch.' Celebros took a slow, shaky breath, and Eldir turned back to look at him, his hands behind his back. He raised his eyebrows. 'You are going to be difficult?' he asked quietly, although he clearly did not expect an answer. 'Very well.'  
  
12 January, 59 FA  
  
Gwalas squinted ahead again. 'How far away are these people? How many?' Pernathos asked, shaking the wet snow off his cloak. 'Two, and too close,' Gwalas said. 'Even if we wanted to get away, they have horses and we have none.' 'Yes,' Pernathos said softly. 'Snaga, you had better get behind us. If they are from Rohan, or Ithilien, or have not heard of you, they will not hesitate to kill any or all of us.' Snaga moved behind the other two. 'I would guess,' Gwalas said quietly, 'that since we have traveled fast, and for two weeks, we are roughly halfway to the City. That would mean we are nearing Mering Stream.' The two riders, who were cloaked and riding right next to each other, spotted them standing side by side, now in silence. One rode near to them, and when he was close dismounted; the other stayed behind. As the man drew nearer, they tried to get a glimpse of his face. When he was twelve paces away, he gave a gasp of surprise. 'Gwalas!' he shouted, hurrying forward. 'And Pernathos! Where are the others?' It was Eldarion. He pulled off his hood as he neared them. Snaga moved out from behind them. 'Following Celebros,' he said quietly. 'Celebros?' Eldarion said, puzzled. 'Celebros was kidnapped in the night, two weeks ago, near the Gap of Rohan, by the Galadil,' Gwalas said flatly. 'The others are following, and we were sent to the City with the news.' Eldarion gasped. 'How is Meneldil?' Gwalas added as an afterthought. Eldarion bit his lip and shut his eyes. 'And who is that with you?' The second figure was approaching. Eldarion's shoulder shook a moment. His eyes were glassy when he opened them. 'Meneldil's dead,' he said quietly. 'Aeargil and I are going to Methnan.' Gwalas' eyes grew large and sad, and his mouth hung open. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, 'The King gave you leave?' 'No,' Eldarion said matter-of-factly. 'I didn't ask him. We just left. I didn't want to be stalled.' Gwalas' eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. Pernathos gaped. Snaga stood still, and made no move. 'Aeargil!' he called, turning around. 'Who is it?' The others recognized her sweet voice, but it was no longer the innocent, quiet stream of words. Instead it was the sad, wearied river that is but a trickle; lifeless, that has seen too much. She dismounted and walked over next to Eldarion. 'Gwalas, Pernathos, and Snaga. Celebros has been kidn-apped.' 'That is not well,' she said cooly, pulling back the hood of her cloak as Eldarion had done, revealing her sorrowful blue-green eyes. She turned to her husband. 'How far are we from Methnan?' she asked softly putting her hand on his shoulder. Eldarion very nearly gaped at her. 'Celebros has been kidnapped,' he repeated blankly. 'The King can take care of it,' she said, smiling sweetly. 'That could take weeks! Aeargil, the people who took him are abusive. He could be -' Aeargil looked innocently at him. 'Then if you leave,' she said softly, 'what shall I do? Shall I go on to Methnan alone, or back to your City? Or on with you?' Eldarion, looking affronted, pursed his lips and frowned thoughtfully. 'Where,' he asked Gwalas after a tense silence, 'was he taken?' 'Elladan thought they would take him along the Misty Mountains north, and into the Wild,' Gwalas offered uncertainly, 'but he said he would have to follow the tracks more.' Eldarion narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Aeargil, who was standing expectantly beside him, looking at him and the others. She slowly raised her hand and delicately touched his cheek. He looked down at her. 'I have to follow him, Aeargil,' he said imploringly. 'I have to.' 'You do not have to,' she said, her voice icy. 'You may feel it is your responsibility, but it is not. Others could do it. There are already others following.' 'They will soon give up, if they cannot find him,' Gwalas broke in. His voice had grown angry. 'Those who are here are the only ones left, if the others have failed. And all the horses were taken. Don't you care about him? He could be killed! He could die! Is his life that worthless to you?' The last were shouted, fury shining clearly through in his usually calm, peaceful face. There was a hush. Then Eldarion turned to look at her. 'Your disregard for his safety,' he said at last, 'is what caused me to make up my mind. I am following him, Aeargil.' The icy glare deepened. Gwalas turned to Eldarion. 'If the situation was not so serious,' he said, 'if it was not so desperate, I would never ask you to do this.' 'You never did ask,' Eldarion said, still looking at Aeargil. 'I said I would. I am going to follow him, I know that for certain. But some should still return to the City bearing the news.' 'I will go on,' Pernathos said firmly. 'And so shall I,' Snaga said after a pause. 'I would not be of much use, fighing against elves.' Eldarion sighed. Secretly, he had been hoping that he could arrange for someone to escort Aeargil to Methnan, but there was no hope of that, really. Still, there was one thing he could try. 'Aeargil, are you certain you want to go on to Methnan? There is more safety in the City.' 'I want to return to my people,' she said quietly, and perhaps a touch pleadingly. 'I want to tell my father of all that has happened. It has been over three years since I last gazed on the Tower of the Last Mist. The City is very beau-tiful, but it does not hold a candle to Methnan.' 'Could you not return to the City, and ask the King for an escort? It would be much safer, now that the Galadil are getting more alert and outright.' Aeargil's lips tightened, not wanting to lose the argument. 'Fine,' she said haughtily, and Eldarion let out his breath. 'But I will not linger. I suppose you must take the horses now. There are not enough for three, and you can make use of them. I do not like it, but it is sensible.' Eldarion's face was slightly brightened, but still most of it was sad and alert. Gwalas looked around. 'We might as well spend the night here,' he said slowly. 'Dusk is coming on.'  
  
14 January, 59 FA  
  
Celebros awoke, as always, with a small groan. Coming back to life and pain was not pleasant, although it alerted him that he was alive. He hurt, but he still had the key that Eldir needed, and he knew the Elf would not risk killing him. The back of his neck and his limbs and stomach ached from Eldir's merciless torture. There was a crunch behind him, and he turned his head, still lying on the ground. It was Eldir, of course, for his morning wake-up call. Eldir pulled him roughly to his feet, shaking off the snow that clung to his hair and back. 'You are no use to me dead,' he growled, 'so do not try to freeze yourself. Get up and about! We have to move again.' Celebros exhaled shakily, swaying on his numb feet. He had been traveling for days in these rags that had once been shoes. Someone from behind pushed him; he groaned and fell to his knees with a wheezing cough. He pushed himself up again. A sharp laugh came from behind him. This sport apparently amused Eldir. 'Well,' the Elf laughed, 'what is this? Could it be that this dangerous man is weakening?' Celebros began to turn to face him, but in a flash he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Eldir leaping forward. Hideously strong fingers gripped the flesh on his neck and shoulder and pushed down. His knees collapsed, and he fell, face forward in the snow. He had heard of this attack; Eldarion had taught it to him. Dimly, he recalled Eldarion saying, 'A pressure hold. Nasty one.' The voice continued on, but Celebros paid no heed to it any longer: a spasm of pain had just shot through him like a sharp knife piercing his shoulder, and with a loud hoarse yell he pulled himself away from the clutching hand, his foot shooting out and meeting someone. There was a yell, from him or someone else, he didn't know, but his leg still was agony. He rolled onto his back and glanced at Eldir. The Elf was growling softly, but also looked surprised. It took Celebros a moment to figure out why. It was that he had never fought back, never defended himself, before this. He lay on his back, panting from the amazing amount of exertion that the extrordinarily easy motion cost him. Eldir approached with disgust, reminding Celebros of Galadon, advancing menacingly on a defenseless boy. He remembered that boy, but could no longer picture him. He knew vaguely that that boy was him, but his mind rejected the information. Just as Galadon had, Eldir waited a moment, gazing into the face of the foe. But instead of attempting to stab him, the Elf's foot shot out and slammed into Celebros' ribs with a nauseating crunch. He gasped as it hit him, and a wave of pain washed over him. Looking satisfied but disgusted, Eldir moved away. Celebros was now gasping in quick, short breaths from the uncontrollable pain. He shut his eyes, wheezing, and tried to check if any of his ribs were broken. His fingers brushed the region which he had been kicked in, but before he could get a clear assesment of anything another wave of pain rolled through him, leaving him trembling. One of the Elves walked over to him. 'You need to get up,' the Elf said. Pity was in his voice, and remorse. He did not approve of Eldir's actions toward a child. 'No matter how badly you are hurt, it is essential to Eldir that we move on. 'I have been told to tell you that you have been insubordinate, pulling away from Lord Eldir, and this action is not to be repeated. For good sport, you may get some food later.' Disgust was clear on the Elf's face as he said that, but not disgust for the Man he was talking to, disgust for the treatment he was being given. 'Do you need a hand?' the Elf asked roughly, and without waiting for an answer pulled Celebros to his feet, then walked away. The pain had been sharp, but once he was on his feet it was agonizing. He shuddered and winced, and although the Elves around him were pretending not to notice, two shot dirty looks at Eldir. It didn't help him any, though. When the Elves began to move, he moved, his numbed feet dragging, stumbling along behind most of them. And the ones behind him were there to guard him. By the end of the day, he was asleep on his feet. Eldir came to question him again, on much the same subjects as he had before. 'Why were you going to Imladris, boy? Why not just stay in the City?' 'The King was tipped that someone had entered the City, and that I was not safe while I was there.' 'But surely you would be even less safe out of the City? Surely there were more of those searching for you in the lands outside of Gondor?' Celebros shrugged. He hadn't thought about that too much. 'I don't know,' he said slowly. 'You don't, eh? Well. I think I shall believe you. Do you know why this...person was looking for you?' 'No.' 'What have you done yet to make anyone want to hurt you?' 'In the year 57, when I was first caught by...your people... I was headed north to freed prisoners from the Elf Galadon in the North.' Eldir's eyes widened slightly, although he quickly masked it. 'More dangerous than you look, I see,' he said with a smirk. 'What else did you do?' 'Other than freeing the important captives? I fought with him, and although he nearly killed me, one of my friends leapt in before he gave the last stoke and struck him, on his shoulder, badly. But I think the captives were perhaps even more important.' 'Who were the captives?' 'Cundariel had been captured only days before, and we rescued her. Her brother Tasarian had been there thirty years. Aeargil, princess of Methnan, had been there about one year. She was never clear on that point, so I do not know for certain how long precisely. And Rilhir had been a captive three years. He was the one who struck Galadon's shoulder, but he was also badly injured, and died three days later.' Celebros was able to say it matter-of-factly, but Eldir could see the pain that it took to say it. 'I see,' he said slowly. 'You have been honest this time, boy. That is good.' He smiled, then made as if to turn and walk away. Before he had gotten far, he turned again. With a wicked smile, he said, 'How are you, boy?' He laughed at the expression on Celebros' face as he walked away. A thin blanket was brought to the boy before he fell asleep. It was dark by the time that happened. Eldir looked over at the boy. A grim smile came across his face. Grim, and wicked.  
  
15 January, 59 FA  
  
With a groan, Celebros collapsed to his knees again. This time, his guard did not kick him, did not pull him roughly to his feet. He didn't care or notice. His head was screaming. He let himself fall into the snow on his back. The sky was clearer, but still lingering in its utter depths were wisps of grey cloud. They didn't seem to move at all, to drift across the sky. Shapeless, matterless, they spread, thin. He could see the sky through them, some of them. Eldir was quite suddenly over him, eyes deep and angry. 'What is this?' he demanded. Celebros couldn't tell whether he was asking the guard or him, and couldn't answer anyway. But the guard answered hesitantly. 'He can't walk any longer, Lord. His legs will not work. They cannot support him. He has fallen many times already this morning.' Then his voice lowered, but Celebros could still hear it. 'He cannot do it, Lord. He is dying as we speak, slowly but surely. If he does not rest, we will find nothing, and any purpose you may bave for him will not be acheived. He will not be able to stand again, at least now. His legs are injured and frozen. He is failing.' Eldir glanced down at Celebros with only slight worry and unmasked disgust in his voice. 'He is weak,' Eldir sneered. 'Cover him, and give him more durthond.' He strode off, and Celebros could have sworn he had heard the Elf mutter to no one. 'And you are weaker.' But the guard called for a blanket, and covered Celebros with it carefully, and took the durthond he was offered. Celebros tasted the bitter liquid as it filled his mouth, and then tasted nothing. He stared up at the sky again, letting its blue chill spread through his body, and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.  
  
16 January, 59 FA  
  
Eldarion sighed resignedly and turned to Gwalas. 'I see no hope,' he said quietly, 'for they are far ahead. And if we find them, what then? There are two of us, and too many of them for us to fight.' 'Last time he was captured, we took him in the night, when there were few awake.' 'And all those awake agreed to let him go,' Eldarion said. 'Cundariel told me.' 'What does that matter? There are many, I know, who diapprove of retaking those who escaped. They think, as I do, that it makes no sense to retake them if they are out of the territory.' 'We have no assurances that those on guard will.' Gwalas was silent then. His long red hair blew back in the breeze, and Eldarion looked at him for a minute more, then turned away. 'Come along, now,' Gwalas sighed at length, his eyes sad, 'we must go on. The longer we tarry here, the longer Celebros is in their keeping. Come, Eldarion! Hurry! Hope is in speed!' Yet even as they rode on quickly, Gwalas' eyes showed no hope.  
  
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Celebros glanced over at Eldir quickly. He was not looking Celebros' way, and the young man rubbed his arms and hands quickly to warm them, then his legs. He had lost most of the feeling in his fingers, and the meager heat he got from rubbing them was painful. Eldir glanced his way, and he stopped. The Elf narrowed his eyes, but to Celebros' great relief and puzzlement, all he did was nod curtly and turn back away. Confused at this gesture, Celebros hesitantly continued rubbing his limbs. The ice beneath him, hard and cold, cut into his legs although he could not feel the cold. Could not sense the pain. Pressure was the only thing that told him this; he had not been able to feel much of anything other than pressure or the faint, scarce bit of heat except on his head, back, and chest. Or when hot blood ran across him. There were a few places that were bruised that hurt if pressured, but other than that there was just numbness. He felt...nothing. Emptiness. No feeling, and little emotion save fear, and next to nothing else except weariness and hunger. Cold was not a factor. He had heard some of the Elves talking, too. One had said to another, 'Why do they do this to him?' and the mutters from others said much the same, or said that many disagreed with this treatment, or at least did not see the point in it. It seemed to be against rules. This did not much help his case, however, for many were too afraid of Eldir to do anything, and others said it was his business. Celebros sighed and tried to sleep. He would not get much; Eldir would come again and question him, or see some of his 'sport'. It was as it had been for days... He wondered suddenly, sleepily, how many days it had been. Had it been a week? Two? Four? A month or more? He realized, with a yawn, that he had no clear idea of whether it had been five days or five weeks or more than that. He tried to remember how many times he had slept, and could not. He had vague memories of Eldir asking him questions, or kicking him, and once stepping on his hand. Another yawn split his face as he looked down at the hand. It was, like the other, reddened, but also swollen. Perhaps it had been broken. He touched it, and felt a twinge of pain. There was no reaction across his face, for he could not truly feel the pain, just a sense of pressure and numbness. Tired. The word flickered through his mind, and it took a moment to process it, to remember it. He should sleep. Looking around for Eldir, he saw the Elf standing over by the pile of snow that was blocking out some of the wind. Another faint memory came to him suddenly, as if it was someone else's, far away and long ago. A river: they had crossed a river. How long ago? Again, he could not remember. With a sigh, the young man blinked several times, trying to shake off sleep. Sleep; a foreign word, far-off, another lost memory of long ago. It flooded over him, sending him into a dream of something he could not place. Somewhere bright, and warm, where there were things and people that he knew. A place of many people. He could not remember it when he awoke. There were many things he could no longer remember.  
  
19 January, 59 FA  
  
'We are near the Gap of Rohan,' Gwalas said, coming out of deep thoughts and turning back to Eldarion at the fire. 'How near?' Eldarion did not look up, but stayed crouched, warming his hands and forearms. 'Three days, perhaps. Give or take a day.' 'Good. It is best that we go on as quickly as possible. Now is when we make our decision.' He looked up, his gaze steady. 'Where do we go to look? If there are enough of them that they do not have horses, we have hope to catch up but not to defeat. If there are few enought that they have them, then we haven't much of a hope of overtaking them; they have quite a head start on us as it is. Of course, we haven't much of a hope of finding them in any case.' 'Ah, but in these previous years there has been more snow in the Mountains than is usual, and if it has been anything like I have heard they will have had several days where they have had to stop. We have hope yet, so do not give yours up.' 'We still must make a decision on our plan of approach. What do you think, Gwalas?' There was a moment in which neither of them spoke. Gwalas broke it, saying, 'Here at least the snow is fading. I do not understand this weather, though: it is much snowier than it should be. That is as it has been in the last few years, but especially so in the mountains. There is some devilry brewing, I can feel it. Perhaps it will be for the better, but I do not know about that. In any case, I would say that we should skirt the western edge of Fangorn Forest, for I do not know it well, we would get lost. Then we go into the Mountains.' Eldarion nodded. 'Sensible,' he said quietly, 'except for one point. One point, and two reasons. It would be quicker and more direct to skirt Fangorn on the east. They have certainly passed there, and then we do not have to deal with the heavy snow. And, as I said, it is quicker and more direct.' Gwalas raised his eyebrows. 'You're right,' he said, nodding approvingly. 'Good thinking, Eldarion. We will have to set out that way tomorrow, then. North-west. Yes, that is a sensible plan.' Eldarion looked blankly across the fire. He finished warming his arms, turned around, and lay down, his back to Gwalas, covered by his cloak. Gwalas, still nodding, turned and did the same.  
  
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It was still dark and quiet, but Celebros was not asleep, and neither, he noted, was Eldir. Eldir was not on watch, being the leader of the group of so many, but he sat, aware and erect, his back to Celebros. Celebros groaned softly. It had been warmer that afternoon, and he had been nearer to the fire, so he had, unfortunatly, regained feeling in his limbs, followed by a wave of sickness and pain, aching sore mucles, and straight though and feeling. The last was the only thing he was grateful for, because he was able to think without running into words that he had thought of and not remembered the meaning of. It was as if all the confusion had thawed out. With the onset of nightfall, however, the cold had returned, and was beginning to ebb back once more into him, freezing his thoughts. He sighed, shut his eyes, and tried to make use of the time he had to think lucidly before sleep came, and memories failed. It was not easy; already he was very cold, and more aware of it than when he was numb. His head pounded, making him more aware of the blood running down it, more aware of the gash on his temple. It had remained unbound and unattended, of course, which did not surprise him. A token of the last encounter with Eldir. It was deep, and he would not be surprised if it gave him more trouble than the other various injuries with the possible exception of the ribs. It did surprise him how calm he was as this ran through his head. He looked around at the dark site, trying to imagine something other than this, something from...before. It was hard, and his head pounded fiercely, but he got an image and tried to fix it in his head; an image of his grandfather's face. Smiling. His grey eyes gleaming. The image fixed in his mind, and when he shut his eyes, it was as if someone had placed that picture over his face. But it was two people. Not just his grandfather, his king, but himself as well. It was clear and sharp, a memory of a young man who no longer existed. Now the young man was gone, and replaced by a weaker version; larger and smaller, stonger and less strong. The face that he wore was now lined with care and fear, and also scarred and bleeding, wearied and haunted. It was the face of one who has given up his mind to one thought, and one hope, and with the hope now slowly fading. What chance was there now that he would be rescued? For several days he had hoped, but now it had been a very long time. If he was ever found, it probably would not be alive. This sudden thought puzzled him, but he left it and focused again on the dimming image of the King Elessar's face.  
  
24 January, 59 FA  
  
'They're gone,' Eldir said quietly to his captive. The boy was tied, for he had been fighting again, and his wrists, knees, and ankles were so tightly bound that there were small streaks of blood on the wrists. The ankles he could not see. 'Who?' Celebros asked quietly. He had learned the game, Eldir wanted to have him ask this, so he did. 'Those that were following. They've likely been gone for days, but they were far enough behind they never knew that we had seen them. That is not my point. You're slowing us down. I know you can go faster.' Celebros did not reply. He knew what was coming, and he had no reply. The drugged drink they had given him had slowed him down considerably on the day's march. The wicked burn on the back of his neck stung cruelly, the pain from it renewed. How had it happened again? He couldn't remember. 'I know it, and you are just slowing us down. There is nothing to be done that I know of save telling you to pick up the pace.' Silence greeted him...he snarled, as he had done after this had happened the other times, and again kicked Celebros in the ribs. Hard this time, making him gasp and clutch at it, groaning. A bit harder than he was prepared for. He coughed, and blood trickled out of his mouth. He was on his knees, then lying on the ground. Pain. He moaned; a soft little sound of defeat. Eldir walked away. The blood was hot and bitter in his mouth, staining his lower lip. It froze there, cold and hard. He coughed again, hard, and the sharp dagger of pain shot through him. His light green shirt, fluttering like a thin, torn banner for the Galadil, was tinged a crimson shade on the front. Nearly sobbing with then pain, but holding it back, he rolled onto his back and shook there. It hurt even to shake, because he was tied tightly, but after a while he was somehow able to wipe his mouth on the shoulder of his garment, cutting his wrists' wounds open again, tainting his shirt yet more. After a time, still shaking, he drifted into an uneasy state of sleep, waking several times in the night.  
  
25 January, 59 FA  
  
'We are on their trail, that is certain,' Gwalas said unnecessarily. 'We are too far behind to know anything more, but we see their tracks. Do you not yet see hope? We have traveled faster than I would have thought possible, or they have gone slower.' 'They would, with a prisoner, wouldn't they?' Eldarion muttered. There was no one to be seen, but he had an uneasy feeling and so did not talk loudly. 'More likely they would merely push him to go very fast.' 'He'll be injured, won't he?' Eldarion did not hesitate for once, and neither did Gwalas in his reply. 'Yes. Badly, likely; broken bones or worse. I don't know what to say, Eldarion. He will not be unscathed, by any means. At least they will have questioned him, and mistreated him, and drugged him likely.' Eldarion was silent, but Gwalas saw him shake his head as if in denial. The haunted look in his eyes and tone in his voice told Gwalas all he needed, and they did not speak again for some time. They rode on in the cold for a time, rested briefly, and rode on, and rested...it was a tiring ritual. 'I want him to be normal,' Eldarion said after almost two hours without actual discussion, 'and I want him to be the same as he used to. But he won't be, will he? He'll be different. He won't be the same anymore.' 'He won't,' Gwalas agreed, 'but that doesn't mean a change for the worse.' 'I don't see how kidnapping and abuse can have positive effects on a seventeen-year-old Man.' Gwalas shook his head. 'Not that you can think of, perhaps,' he said quietly, 'but there are many ways. Many, many, but none are the path I would have chosen. Or anyone who wants the child to live a normal life. But he's not normal, is he? He's special, Celebros is.' Memory and a hint of something else flickered across Eldarion's face. There was a dead silence once more. A very dead silence. 'In any case,' Gwalas said, 'we will likely be able to find them, and get close enough to do something, within the next week.' 'Perhaps,' Eldarion said absently, obviously not believing it. 'And the tracks we have found show no horses.' 'That is true.' This time there was thoughtfulness in his voice, although still not much hope. Perhaps a bit. Gwalas turned away and shrugged his shoulders. 'We haven't found many tracks, though,' Eldarion added grimly. 'But horse-tracks would have been deeper and broader.' 'You're right,' Eldarion admitted. 'Let's keep going. It will be dark soon, but I don't think that will stall us. It'll stall them, though, most likely.' Eldarion nodded, and they went on, past the night and twilight for several hours.  
  
29 January, 59 FA  
  
The blow came again, harder this time, and Celebros shuddered, collapsing from his hands and knees onto his face, blood trickling from his mouth and the back of his head. A fresh coat of scarlet covered his shirt. His lip was split and his face darkened, his neck throbbing, and his only thought was that he was going to die. A savage kick hit his back; it arced, and his body curled into a ball. He felt the toe of Eldir's boot nudge his side. 'He's wasted,' a voice said. 'You're going to kill him, do you realize that? You beat him too much, and you're all but freezing him and starving him to death. He can't be any use to you dead. You can't ransom him, you can't sell him into the slave trade in the south, and all you'll get is trouble from Gondor. He's important, he isn't like the others. I don't think you see that, but we could fetch a rare price from ransoming, or selling him, as long as he's not dead. He'd be a good slave in the south if he heals from the ordeal you've given him.' 'I don't need him to be a good worker, I need him to be able to answer questions. I'm not going to sell him, and I don't intend to give him up for ransom. I want him for information, and I can sell him if we defeat Gondor.' 'All the same, he can't answer questions if he's dead, or if you put him in a coma.' 'All right, so maybe you're right. What should I do with him now?' 'If we keep him out here in this state, he'll be dead before he wakes up, or dying. Wrap him up warm and give him a bit to eat and one of your drugs to numb him. Look at him, Eldir, he's a boy. You're too hard on him. It's against the rules.' 'And you're too soft. The rules state clearly that in special cases -' 'If he doesn't get food and heat, I give him forty-eight hours.' 'But the drug?' 'I don't know, I'm not a doctor!' 'Can you deal with him?' 'Of course.' Celebros heard all this through a mist, but it was cleared quickly as a hand touched his back. He tried to shrink away, but the hand was insistant. He felt himself being rolled over onto his back, and then the hand was gone for a moment. Just as quickly it was back, and he felt a blanket wrap around him. 'Here, boy,' a quiet voice said, 'you need to eat something.' The pain was searing like a fire sweeping through his body, but somehow he understood the words. 'Boy, come on. You have to eat something or you're going to die.' Die, was that not a good thing? His stomach was a knawing empty pit, but was it pain or hunger? A hand slapped his face hard, and he forced his eyes open. A face swam before his. 'Eldarion?' he asked, not knowing what that word meant. 'No. You have to eat, boy. Here, take this -' His vision was blurred, but he knew the Elf was holding out something to him. 'Can't move my hands that well,' Celebros muttered, trying to flex his fingers, but he couldn't feel them. He heard the man mutter a curse and felt something in his mouth. He moved his jaw and tried to swallow, tasting blood along with the food, but his throat was swollen. It took a while, but he managed to get it down. It felt unusual, like it wasn't supposed to be there. That almost made sense, but his mind was fogged. The cold that was normal was giving way to heat, and pain. Fingers found his pulse and stayed there for a minute. Someone asked a question, and the man said, 'His heart rate is pretty sluggish...I don't know if he's going to make it.' 'Give him the drug,' Eldir's voice said reluctantly. The man in front of him gave a sigh of relief. After a minute, the rim of a cup met his mouth. 'Drink this,' the soft voice said, and tilted it into his mouth. It had a sharp coppery taste, he would have normally said, but right at that moment it didn't taste like anything. He swallowed and slipped into darkness.  
  
1 February, 59 FA  
  
Eldarion peered through the darkness. 'They went in here?' he asked, turning to Gwalas. 'Yes.' The Elf did not seem to have any trouble seeing through the dark of the mountain tunnel, it was as if his eyes cut through it. 'Why?' 'I don't know. Maybe they were getting tired of the cold. It's bitter this year, worse than usual.' 'I know. I've been out there as long as you have.' Gwalas had no reply to this, and Eldarion started forward into the tunnel. Gwalas followed him, but after a while was obliged to go in front, because Eldarion could hardly see his hand in front of his face. After a while Gwalas stopped and examined the wall. Eldarion held up the makeshift torch he had lit, trying to see what it was, and Gwalas turned around, his face pale. 'Blood,' he said quietly. 'It's blood...'  
  
3 February, 59 FA  
  
The tunnel was dark. Celebros was hardly awake; the drug had not completely worn off. The pain was unbelievable. He was very weak, too, he realized as he stumbled again. The cold, the abuse, and the drugs had done that to him. Hungry, and tired - and frightened, he realized. He had no idea what they were doing here. They came to a sudden halt, and Eldir began ordering them to do various unimportant tasks. Celebros leaned against the tunnel's stone wall, half- asleep. It wasn't until Eldir was already coming towards him that he realized he was backing into a corner. The tall Elf was fingering his knife. A bolt of fear ran through Celebros as he began to remember what exactly a sharp knife could do. 'So, child,' Eldir said quietly when he had reached the boy, speaking so softly that none of the others could hear him, 'it has come to this. I have been informed that you have been slowing us down again. This may not be your fault, but I believe you could go much faster than you have been. I cannot - I will not - be slowed down.' It had come to this, Celebros realized. He was frightened, but if he knew what was coming...it didn't matter. Still, though, he could read the lie in the elf's words; it was not speed that the elf was worried about. Eldir had realized something, too - he would get nothing out of Celebros. Suddenly he realized that the knife had been unsheathed. A shiver ran through the boy. The blade was sharp and ugly. NO! Celebros' thought was not fierce, but very firm. He repeated it to himself, in his mind, over and over: No, no. No! 'Why, child, are you afraid?' Eldir's voice was scornful. He paused, waiting for an answer. Getting none, he continued, 'One would think you were deadly frightened. You are sweating, boy. Are you possibly imagining what my blade could do to you? 'It could kill you, boy.' The voice bored into Celebros' mind like a drill. Yet after Eldir said this, the voice inside the young man's head said no. 'It wouldn't be very hard, either.' No! The voice was full of fear, and he thought for a moment he had said it aloud. The Elf pressed his knife breifly, withour breaking the skin, to the young man's skin, then retracted it. 'It could be slow,' he said, thoughtfully, considering. 'Very slow.' The voice stopped suddenly, and as it did, so did the one in Celebros' mind. Out of the darkness, a sudden faraway shrill shreik came, and another. Then dead silence filled the hall. The Elf raised the knife to the boy's throat. He held his breath. For a minute that seemed like a year, all was silent and still. 'You could not have honestly thought you could get away?' A thin trickle of blood seeped down Celebros' neck. His breath was shaky. This was it. 'I do not think I shall kill you,' Eldir said thoughtfully. Celebros' heart leapt, but at the next words sank again. 'But you aren't any use to me anymore. I know you aren't going to tell me anything. I shall leave you for the orcs instead. They are near, as we have heard, and you will wish you were dead for a good time before you are. Who knows? Perhaps this is stronger than I believe, even. That would save you some pain.' With an unbelievable speed, he reached for the flask by his waist and forced all of the liquid down the boy's throat, through his teeth. He choked and spluttered, but Eldir held him down tight, and he was too weak to resist the powerful Elf. Eventually he fell still, and was left alone in the orc-halls of the Misty Mountains.  
  
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Gwalas and Eldarion hurried down the dark halls, the former being in the lead. The light of their torch did not reveal much, and it was long work. Suddenly Gwalas stopped. 'Orc,' he hissed, and leapt forward. A shreik ran out in the tunnel as a small orc leapt forward, and another as his throat was skillfully slit. They hurried on. Minutes of silence passed, they came to a dead end. Darkness wreathed around them, they suddenly came into a small narrow room. Eldarion sighed worridly. 'This might take -' 'There!' 'What?! Celebros?' 'I think so. There, in the hall, in the corner, see!' It was impossible to contain their anxiety as they rushed forward. Both knelt as one on either side of the small figure slumped on the ground. It was indeed Celebros. A new, shallow slit was on the front of his neck. Eldarion bent over the boy, and put his ear to the boy's mouth, listening for a flutter of breath. Gwalas put his fingers to the young man's neck, feeling for a pulse. He found the spot, but paused as Eldarion sharply drew a ragged breath and let out a sudden cry, drawing back. Gwalas looked up. Eldarion slowly raised his head and looked, his eyes wide and his mouth open. 'He's not breathing,' he whispered. 'Gwalas - he's not breathing.' His voice was shocked and tainted with disbelief, as if he knew what he had said and also knew it couldn't be true. There was a silence. Both of them stared at each other, eyes blank and horrified, full of greif and despair. Gwalas opened his mouth once as if to say something, then hid his face by looking down, and found Celebros' pulse again. Eldarion heard a sharp inhalation and looked up. 'He's still alive,' Gwalas whispered shakily. 'I feel the pulse. Very weak, but it is there. He must be breathing, but barely.' Their eyes met breifly, both total relief and vivid terror. Eldarion made as if to pick him up, but Gwalas caught his arm. 'Don't move him yet! We can't, until we know what is wrong. He might die if we do.' The Elf's face was anguished, as was his voice, but he tried to make it calm. 'Is he cold?' Eldarion put his hand to the boy's cheek, and forehead, and he took one of the boy's hands in his. 'Yes.' 'Well, I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise. He has no coat, or hat...Elbereth, look at him, he's... I think that it will be safe to move him. If he has been drugged or starved, it cannot be too seriously or he should already be dead.' There was a silence as the two of them stared at the still form in front of them, and Eldarion caught a Sindarin curse. Then a whisper. 'What have they done to him?' Eldarion lifted the boy's head, then set it down again. 'All right,' he whispered, and scooped Celebros' still form off the ground, cradling it a moment before he stood, as if he was holding tiny Meneldil instead of an almost-eighteen-year-old. 'Where should we go?' 'I don't know,' Gwalas said frankly. 'We shouldn't take him out into the cold in this state, and he won't be able to ride himself. Where could we get heavier clothing?' 'I do not know. And neither of us has any extra clothing to spare, Eldarion, so do not think about that. We were not warm enough as it was on the way over. I do not need to deal with two sick companions. Let me think. Methnan is too far; probably more than two days in this weather.' 'Well, we should at least find some place where we can wake him, and perhaps tend some of his wounds, shouldn't we? He certainly can't go anywhere this way.' They set off through the tunnels. They did not get far. Before they had been going five minutes, the boy began to groan in his sleep, and they were obliged to stop. It pained Eldarion to notice how cold the boy's form was against him. Celebros seemed... dead. He was completely unresponsive, his skin was cold, and his breathing was light. He would die if his injuries were not treated soon. It was painfully obvious that he was dying; it appeared his will to live was not strong. He would recover well, however, of course, if he was healed properly soon. Eldarion lay the boy down on the ground. 'Gwalas,' he said quietly, 'can you tend him here, or do we have to go farther?' 'Here,' the red-haired elf responded tiredly, 'but I will need a fire. Have we any wood left? Water?' 'There was wood near where we found Celebros,' Eldarion said, not looking at Gwalas, and staring instead into the sleeping young man's face. 'And we both have water...but we may need that.' 'When we get outside, we can melt snow to replenish our supply.' Gwalas sounded almost absent. 'I can go get the wood. I am...rather distracted. I...Eldarion, I feel responsible for this. I should have arranged a watch. The night he was taken, we did not put anyone on guard. I should have -' 'No!' Eldarion looked up in shock and fixed his gaze on Gwalas. He sounded almost fierce. 'For one thing, if any of us thought you responsible, Elladan and Elrohir and the others have as much responsibility as you to set up a watch. But the Galadil, as you above others should know, have their ways. We have him. They did not want us to get him. I do not know why they left him, but I would guess that they heard the orc's cries and thought that he would be taken by them.' 'Very well. I'll go get the firewood.' Eldarion did not answer. When Gwalas' footsteps had faded, he looked back at Celebros. The boy's face was almost peaceful, but his breathing was still so shallow it could barely be detected. It made him sad, because the face was one he did not recognize any longer. The light of Gwalas' torch warned Eldarion that he was coming back. He looked up as the Elf returned back into the room. His arms were full, with many pieces of wood of various sizes nearly covering his face. He quickly built a fire and lit it from his torch. They also began warming some water. While they were waiting for it to heat enough, Gwalas checked the injuries. Aside from the cut on the front of his neck, Celebros was covered with bruises, and there was a burn on the his neck that stretched perhaps six inches and was maybe half an inch thick, more than half the way around. It looked almost charred. The front of his neck was not burned. Celebros also had two broken ribs, and his hand was apparently broken in several places. There were several new scars on the side of his face - jagged and long, as if he had been thrown to the ground. In addition to that, he was badly frostbitten. There were several other things, too - miscellaneous scratches and cuts and scars - but before they were able to discover them all, the water was ready. Eldarion was quite surprised when Gwalas took from his pouch several leaves of athelas, obviously not fresh, but still unbroken. 'I harvested it before the first frost,' Gwalas explained as he broke the first leaf in the water. A fresh scent dashed through the room, ridding Gwalas and Eldarion of weariness. Celebros' breathing immediately became easier than it had before, if rather short. Gwalas let the leaf soak a time. 'It ought to work rather well,' he said, 'if not as well as if it were fresh. But you can already see the effect it is having.' Indeed, it seemed a touch of color was returning to the boy's face. But other than the rising and falling of his chest, he made no move. When the leaf had been steeped in the water long enough, Gwalas bathed the boy's face and neck and his other various injuries. Then he stowed the rest away. 'He'll need more than this later,' was all he would say. How long they sat in the dark tunnel, neither could later guess. Celebros was not as cold as he had been before, but still did not wake. Once or twice he stirred, and several times muttered something quickly, and although they could not catch his words, it sounded like Sindarin. Eldarion was worried, but Gwalas said, 'Remember they may have drugged him. That is what I would guess. They always keep a supply of certain kinds. None of these would hurt him, I should guess, unless they used more than they ought.' 'And what if they did?' Eldarion muttered. But Gwalas did not answer. All he did was look gravely at the young man on the floor. At last, the boy stirred again and opened his eyes. He was not very aware, and was obviously on the edge of sleep. He seemed to think he was dreaming. He didn't sit up, or move much at all apart from his hands. Eldarion took one gently to see if he was warmer, but before he could get a clear picture the boy shrank away. Eldarion had to remind himself that Celebros had been kidnapped and mistreated for more than a month. The boy looked around almost wildly. Gwalas did not speak, but when Celebros began to move took his hand. The boy made as if to draw away, then quite suddenly his eyes closed and he was asleep again. 'We should move him,' Gwalas said quietly after a silent moment. 'We must find something warmer to put on him, and bring him outside. He is uneasy here, and there is something lurking. Orcs perhaps, but I do not think so. I can feel it, and so can he, apparently.' Eldarion didn't dispute this, but was struck by a sudden thought. 'We're about a day from the outside,' he said quietly. 'If we get near there, you could try to go out and get an animal, and we could use the fur -' 'Yes,' Gwalas said softly, nodding, but distant. 'That would be - good. We need meat anyway.' They hurridly cleaned up the site, not wanting to leave any sign of their presence for orcs. Eldarion lifted Celebros and they hurried back.  
  
4 February, 59 FA  
  
'Most of the meat is in my bag,' Gwalas said, 'but there is some in yours.' 'All right.' 'Is Celebros waking up at all?' 'No. He is certainly warmer, though. He will wake soon, and we should have some food ready. I very much doubt they have fed him properly.'  
  
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Celebros did not open his eyes. He stifled a groan through his teeth, moved his head and thought hard. He was on the floor, in a fur or... There were the sounds of a fire, and someone talking, and another outside. Suddenly he remembered dimly what had happened: Eldir had threatened to kill him, force-fed him some of the sleep herb, and left him for the orcs. But the person talking didn't sound like an orc. It sounded familiar. It sounded like someone he knew. But after so long with the Galadil, he just couldn't place it... who could it be? Eldarion. Celebros' eyes opened. He was safe. With Eldarion, and someone else. He was wrapped in the fur of some animal, lying on the floor of a tunnel near the exit. A red-haired figure was stooped outside, and Eldarion was tending a small fire. Well, then. Eldarion and Gwalas. He groaned softly as he tried to sit up. His chest was sore, and his hand, and his neck where he had been burned, and his head was pounding... Eldarion whipped around. 'Lie still!' he hissed urgently. Celebros stopped trying to sit up, and the alarm in Eldarion's eyes died. Gwalas turned around as Eldarion crawled over to the boy. 'You've broken two or three ribs,' he growled, although his voice was worried. 'You are also severely frostbitten. Don't try to move much right now. We just gave you some more of... some herb Gwalas has.' 'Methya,' Gwalas called form where he was now tending the fire. 'And a bit of -' 'Whatever.' Eldarion's voice was dry. 'Anyway, the pain will die off in a while, but that doesn't mean that you can't do damage to yourself.' Celebros opened his mouth suddenly. 'Where's Men-' he began, but Eldarion lay a finger across the boy's lips. 'Quiet,' he said. 'I should check your burn, and add more athelas. Meneldil's dead.' Celebros gasped, winced, but whether from the news or the pain, Eldarion couldn't tell. The boy soon fell asleep again.  
  
+++++  
  
'He's weak,' Eldarion said, turning to Gwalas. 'Quite so, despite everything we've done.' 'I know,' Gwalas replied softly. 'I know, but there is nothing more either of us can do. Part of his weakness is physical, of course, but there is also far too much weakness mentally. Far more than there should be. I wonder what they did to him, or told him.' 'I do not think,' Eldarion said quietly, 'that I want to know.' The boy stirred again in his sleep. Eldarion tried to still him, but the pressure made him groan in his sleep. Eldarion gave up trying to stop him from moving. 'How soon will the meat be ready?' Eldarion asked. 'Soon,' Gwalas said. 'What do you think? Should we wake the boy to eat?' Eldarion hesitated. This was hard; balancing which need was the more urgent: the need for food or sleep. 'I think we can wake him, but only when it's ready and not before. He has been sleeping for some time, and I do not know how long it has been since he has eaten.' The food was ready within twenty minutes, and Gwalas woke the boy then. His eyes opened and focused, and he smiled. 'It wasn't a dream, then,' he whispered, his voice hoarse. 'We have some meat. You should have some.' Celebros laughed quietly. 'I could eat just about anything,' he said quietly. 'Eldir did not like parting with enough food to make a whole meal.' Gwalas froze. 'Eldir?' he muttered, almost to himself, sounding...something unplacable. Then louder. 'Eldir? Are you certain?' Celebros nodded slowly, confused at the reaction. Gwalas' eyes were narrowed, for one, but all his face was reflecting both total shock and disgust and anger, and - just maybe - a hint of fear? His eyebrows were raised, his teeth clenched, but his lips open and he was flexing his hand. 'Eldir was my friend until he befriended Brethil,' Gwalas explained, his voice lowered. 'Brethil was of lower status then, but not by much. Status is determined by ability and skill, but also the number of captives and how many are lost. There are never many lost. But it bacame a contest between Brethil and Eldir to see how many captives they could take. It started out as a game, but as the acheived higher posts, they gained supporters. Now they are bitter rivals. Eldir is colder, harsher, and Brethil is more abiding to the rules. Eldir breaks many.' Gwalas' eyes flickered to the boy's neck and bruised, blood-stained face. 'Too many, but no one has yet become bold enough to report this, because Eldir has so many supporters that once it was found out who had told, the speaker would find himself conveniently dead in a hunting accident or fallen into a stream.' Gwalas bit off the last words, his voice now so bitter that Celebros wondered whether the elf knew this from personal experiences. Celebros nodded again. He was tired, but hunger overcame that. 'It's ready,' Eldarion called. 'How do you feel, Celebros?' 'Tired,' he admitted, 'and a bit light-headed -' 'Light-headed?' Gwalas said sharply. 'You shouldn't be, unless you lost more blood through that cut on your neck than we thought, or they gave you too much of the drug.' 'They gave me quite a lot,' Celebros said sleepily. 'He said - he -' A yawn split the boy's face and one of his wounds began to bleed again. He didn't seem to notice. Pain was something he was used to. 'Sorry,' he murmured. 'Tired.' 'Here, boy,' Gwalas said, handing him the meat, 'eat this before you fall asleep.' Eldarion could hear the concern in his voice. 'All right.' Celebros knawed on the tough meat, too tired to wonder what it was or to wonder what they would do now. Gwalas moved to tend the fire as the boy ate, and Eldarion moved closer to Celebros. After finishing the meat, he yawned again and lay down on his back atop the fur, staring at the stone ceiling. For a moment Eldarion just looked at him. Celebros smiled, winced, and looked over at him. Eldarion's mouth twitched too, but he did not smile. The sight of Celebros' state was too painful. 'Here,' the Prince said, extricating a bottle from one of his bags but not taking his eyes off the boy. He was so weak. 'Drink some of this.' Celebros tried to lift his hand but winced. Eldarion looked at it, concerned. The hand was crushed and swollen badly. 'Here,' Eldarion sighed gently, and held the bottle up to Celebros' mouth. Some trickled in - Celebros almost choked on it, it was so strong - but he held it in his mouth, savoring the taste. Eldarion stared at the ground, pain and bitterness painting his eyes. Finally the boy swallowed. 'Strong stuff,' he said hoarsely. 'Stronger taste than the durthond, but not as rich.' Tears of fury at his nephew's treatment stung in Eldarion's eyes. 'How did he...' Celebros began, but his voice trailed off in a yawn. He did not say more, but just looked at Eldarion sadly, unable to continue. 'Aeargil was resting one day, and when she woke up he wasn't breathing. It was as simple as that.' 'Oh,' Celebros said softly. 'Aeargil and I left for Methnan immediately after his funeral. It was a short service; no life story to tell. It was about two hours before sunset, and we left at dusk.' 'With the King's leave?' 'No. I didn't want to be stalled, and he would figure out where we were going. He knows for sure by now. We met Gwalas, Snaga, and Pernathos a while after leaving the City, and Snaga, Aeargil, and Pernathos continued on to the City.' 'What about the others? Cundariel, Elladan and Elrohir, Tasarian?' 'They have probably reached the City by now. They started to follow you, but Gwalas said all the horses were stolen, so they have probably returned.' 'Aeargil is in the City now, then?' 'No. She was going back to get an escort and another horse, and leaving immediately for Methnan.' Celebros blinked in surprise. He did not ask any more. Eldarion ruffled his hair gently. 'Go to sleep now, Celebros,' he said. A small smile spread across the boy's face, and he closed his eyes. Soon his breathing was even and deep.  
  
5 February, 59 FA  
  
'Celebros,' Eldarion began, 'we can't travel yet. You are in no condition to go anywhere.' 'Why? I traveled far enough with broken ribs, on foot, without treatment.' 'And it almost killed you. Just traveling with it was enough. Even with my herbs you said it was still sore, and if you didn't have serious tissue damage, it wouldn't be,' Gwalas intervened. 'This is not the kind of thing to experiment with, boy. You could kill yourself that way.' 'How do you know it was the travel that caused the damage? It could have been the fact that it hadn't been treated, or that I had to walk, or that I couldn't choose the pace, or it could have been - and probably was, mind - what they - what he -' Celebros broke off, unable to say it. Gwalas shook his head, - in anger. He was trying to make the boy understand, and Celebros would not. Eldarion looked sick and disgusted and desperate. 'It may have been a mixture of those that caused it to be as bad as it was, boy. All I know is, when we found you, you were dying. We thought at first you were already dead. I do not want to lose you by your own choice and foolishness!' Celebros leaned back against the wall again, not saying any more for the moment, his eyes closed. 'The fact is, Celebros,' Eldarion said firmly, 'we are not going anywhere and there's nothing you can do about it. You are proving your weakness right now. Give it up. It's no use fighting; we are probably going to be here at least another couple of weeks.' Celebros groaned, opening his eyes. 'Two weeks?' he said, his voice weak. 'Most likely,' Gwalas said, trying to keep the grimness out of his voice. 'Perhaps longer.' There was a pause in which Celebros opened his eyes. 'I should have fought, you know,' he said quietly. 'That's what he wanted, after all: good sport. He wanted reason. He had fun, taunting me and laughing at me. Threatening me...Maybe he wouldn't have tried as hard, then, to get me to fight him. I don't remember it very well. It was cold...and he told me...he said...' The boy closed his eyes again and bit his lip, hard. When he opened his eyes again, they were full. 'He said he could hurt them...hurt you, hurt everyone. He taunted me, and he hurt me, and he knew I was too weak to fight back. He knew I didn't have the will power. He knew me. He -' Celebros' voiced broke a moment, and he continued, his hand on the burn as if he was unaware of it - which he probably was, Eldarion mused. 'After my neck got burned, he took me to the door of the structure we were in, and he told me - he said - "Run, boy, and you'll be free. I won't stop you,"...but I didn't. He knew I wouldn't. I wanted to - Elbereth, I did - but I couldn't. If - I thought if I did, then maybe he'd catch someone else.' There was a long pause. Celebros took a deep, shuddering breath, and another.. He did not say anything more for a long time, and Eldarion and Gwalas stood still, looking at him in pity and sympathy. Eldarion's eyes were narrowed, and he was biting his lip hard. At last Celebros looked up again. 'It hurts,' he whispered. 'It hurts.' His vision dimmed. Eldarion shook his head, and pulled his sleeve over his eyes. He glanced at Gwalas, and they sat down, one on either side of Celebros. Eldarion lay his hand gently on then boy's shoulder. Celebros looked up yet again at Eldarion. After a time, he fell asleep again.  
  
8 February, 59 FA  
  
'How's he doing?' 'Not well. Not well at all. I've been thinking, and what he said is fairly sensible. He needs more treatment than either of us can provide.' 'I know, but moving will put him in a worse state than this.' 'So will staying.' 'He could die, Eldarion! Doesn't that mean anything to you?' Gwalas had struck a nerve, and for a moment the look on Eldarion's face was murderous. Then he calmed slightly, but his voice still shook with suppressed emotion. 'He could die here, I'm telling you. It's worse than it looks, too - the neck injuries, they're infected. And the frostbite is bad enough that he might have to lose a few fingers, or maybe just the fingertips if it's not as bad as it looks.' 'Frostbite always looks worse than it is. It can only get better. Unless -' 'That's what I'm afraid of.' The two voices continued fighting. It was all confused and jumbled in Celebros' mind - was it a dream? He had dream a great deal. Who were the voices talking about? 'We're both afraid of that. Listen to me, Eldarion! Going back to the City, we could come across orcs, or goblins left over from the battling -' Eldarion's voice cut in. To Celebros' dim surprise it was thick with sarcasm. 'Let me see. Tell me this, Gwalas, are we more likely to find orcs on the road or in an orc-cave?' 'They don't even use this cave anymore!' 'Then who was that thing we killed before we found him?' 'One. Not two hundred that are still loose near the Grey Wood.' 'So we can take him to Methnan.' 'Aeargil's people, as you yourself told me, are not very skilled at healing.' 'Better than what we've got!' There was a pause. Celebros opened his eyes, but neither Gwalas nor Eldarion, who of course they were, noticed him. Thoughts swirled dimly through his head. 'All right,' Eldarion sighed after a moment, 'maybe we can't bring him to Father. But we could bring Father to him, couldn't we?' 'Eldarion, having the King and the heirs of the King together in an orc- tunnel is just not a good idea. And that would take longer than just waiting until the ribs and other injuries are healing.' 'They're not going to heal right,' Eldarion said softly, 'the ribs aren't aligned. You can see that much from looking at them, and more, being yourself, I'd wager. And I told you, the marks on his neck are infecting. That's a dangerous thing. And you being a healer, you know all this and more! And you probably saw it coming, too!' 'Are you blaming me, Eldarion? Do you think this is my fault? I should have put up a guard, and I know that! Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that I don't hate myself for it? Every time I look at him, I feel something twist inside of me. Yes, this is my fault! But I'm trying to stop it. You couldn't do half of what I've done - do you know what I go through? I would trade my life for his in a heartbeat, and you think that -' Celebros took in a deep breath, and suddenly Eldarion and Gwalas' heads snapped to look at him, and as one they scrambled over to where he lay. 'Celebros, can you hear me?' He didn't move or signal that he had heard at all. His eyes were the only thing that moved, darting around. Eldarion noticed the eyes. 'He's aware,' he said to Gwalas, 'look at his eyes.' 'Mmm.' Gwalas seemed preoccupied. 'But can he speak to us? If not, maybe you are right. Loss of speech and controlled rational thinking is a sign of head injury, or some damage. And if it was right before we found him, or within a day before, he might not have shown the symptoms, I suppose...or it could be the infection getting to him. Give him a moment.' There was a moment of silence, and Eldarion grimaced. 'Celebros?' he said softly. 'Move if you can hear me.' Celebros' left hand twitched, and Gwalas smiled. 'That's good,' he said softly, as if to himself. Eldarion nodded, and took Celebros' hand in his, as a reassurance to himself as much as to the boy. 'Can you talk, Celebros?' He opened his mouth and made an attempt, could not. He shook his head, then winced, looking confused and angry. 'Well, he can't talk, and that's obviously frustrating him,' Eldarion whispered under his breath so that Celebros didn't hear, 'but he seems a bit confused. I - Gwalas, I don't think he remembers.' He glanced back at the boy to find he was asleep again. Gwalas' eyes grew wider for a split second. 'That would explain the look on his face,' he muttered. 'It is probably all the abuse getting to him. That is bad. Not as bad as it could be, perhaps, but maybe you're right. Maybe he was right. Perhaps it would be best to get him away from here after all.' 'Maybe,' Eldarion said dully, 'but then I hadn't known... does he have a fever? Have you checked?' Gwalas looked surprised. 'Not this morning,' he said, 'I should have, too. This boy, especially, seems to get bad fevers very easily. Ones that have bad effects and...Remember when we all returned to the City, and he kept stumbling over what had happened directly afterward? He had had a very bad fever, you remember. From that accursed poison on the knife. When he was recovered, he only remembered very short flashes of the three days, starting at the instant he began to swordfight with Galadon. 'He didn't remember anything at all for the second day: that was when it was worst. For a time, we were more worried or as worried about him as we were about Rilhir. But the only thing he remembered clearly of the third day was late at night, when Rilhir died. And the first day, he didn't remember half of what he had seen.' During the time he was speaking, Gwalas was feeling the boy's forehead and cheeks and listening to the pattern of his breathing. 'It still amazes me that he survived that. I am certain most Men would have died. I am not of course as skilled at healing sicknesses, as Elves are never ill and I only learned most of what I did after I left the Galadil, or when healing prisoners in the Camps. They're awful, Eldarion. I can't imagine what would have happened to him there. And...Eldarion, I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't...I would take it back if I could. It wasn't fair.' 'It's mutual,' Eldarion muttered. 'We're both worried about him, and we're just...' Gwalas shook his head worridly, drawing in his breath between his teeth. 'Celebros has a very high fever. I don't think I have felt a worse since...since Rilhir died. And then Celebros' was close.' Eldarion sighed heavily. 'Are we going to travel, then?' he looked at Celebros, his brows furrowed in worry. 'This is bad,' Gwalas said. 'Something must have happened that we do not know about. He's burning up. If he keeps falling asleep, he will not be able to drink, and he will be dehydrated. If he does not sleep, there is hardly a chance of his survival as usual, for his body will be weak. So weak he wouldn't be able to lift his hand. The weakest it is possible to get without dying, and then you must struggle to live. Which you in turn do not have the strength to do, nor the will.' Eldarion closed his eyes. 'It sounds hopeless,' he said quietly after a depressing pause. 'Are there healers in Imladris, do you know?' 'Elladan and Elrohir together might be able to do something with this situation,' Gwalas said, his eyes lighting a bit but his forehead creased in anxiety and frantic thought. 'But they might be searching still...We must think of other possibilities ...' 'Thranduil?' Eldarion suggested. 'Too far. Too treacherous a path - we'd have to go within ten miles of a Galadil outpost and the Headquarters. And we might have to wait. I do not know how many healers he has, or if he himself is one.' 'Are there Ents, here?' 'I have heard rumors, but they hide, and they grow slow. Day by day, they become more like trees until they no longer talk or move at all.' 'The Beornings?' 'Not all too friendly with strangers or those who come begging, I've heard.' 'How about...hmm. Didn't Mithrandir know an Istarii in this area that could call birds, birds that several times carried Men in times of need? Radagast the Brown?' 'I've never heard of Radagast, and never listened to many of the stories about Mithrandir. I don't know. And since I am not sure, how would we find him?' 'He lives near the southern borders of Mirkwood.' 'Well, I have heard of these great birds. Eagles. And they don't much like Men. Their lord was nearly killed by one who thought he was after sheep and shot him. Mithrandir saved him. I remember that.' 'Ah, well. Imladris, then?' 'If we can't think of anywhere else, or if no one else finds us. The other party will be long gone by now, I expect, but I do not know whether they will all go to Imladris or if Cundariel and Tasarian will go to Minas Tirith. Elladan and Elrohir, of course, had business in Imladris. They were meeting someone, I believe, so they at least will be around there, although as I said, they may be out searching. I think it will have to be Imladris.'  
  
9 February, 59 FA  
  
'Should we go, then? It's nearly noon, and he still hasn't woken up. I don't see the point. He isn't aware when he's awake,' Eldarion whispered. 'I suppose. It is just that it will be harder to travel.' 'He doesn't stay awake long enough when he does wake up.' 'You're right. Let's get him onto the horse. Yours or mine?' 'Mine,' Eldarion muttered. 'All right. Give me a hand here, Eldarion.' Eldarion walked over to where Gwalas stood and shook his head. 'He's eighteen today, Gwalas,' Eldarion whispered. They lifted Celebros' limp form and moved over to the horses waiting patiently by the cave's entrance. The boy was surprisingly light, and his face was hot. The fever was not getting any better, according to Gwalas. It was not hard to get him onto the horse. Gwalas' was the one taking the majority of the baggage, not that there was much of it. Just a bit of food, and now some extra water and fur, and Gwalas' herbs and healing medicines. They turned the horses and rode away.  
  
10 February, 59 FA  
  
Eldarion sighed and turned his head to look at Gwalas again. Once more, now not even hoping for an answer, he said, 'How soon will we stop?' This time, he finally got a reply, although it did not answer his question. 'Isn't he doing well?' the Elf said quietly, the first answer he had given all day. 'No. How long have we been riding today?' Gwalas took a moment before answering, and when he did, he did not answer the question immediately. 'What's wrong with him?' he asked quietly. 'He's not any better, for one thing, and he should be after the herbs you gave him, in addition to the fact that he isn't breathing evenly. He's pale, too. And he's still very hot. How long have we been riding today, Gwalas?' 'Three hours, as near as I could guess. I think we will stop soon, but not immediately. As soon as we find a good place.' That proved to be a harder task than it seemed. It was nearly half an hour before they found shelter under an overhanging piece of rock. It gave some shelter from the wind, but it was as cold as anywhere else. They set Celebros down carefully on the fur. Immediately, the boy convulsed slightly and he coughed - once, twice, three times. His head rolled and the side of it hit the floor, and he took in a breath. His eyes opened. Eldarion turned to look at Gwalas quickly. The Elf's face was twisted between worry and hope. 'He probably still won't be able to talk,' Gwalas said softly. 'Probably?' Eldarion muttered, but he did not get any answer. He looked back at Celebros, who looked aware but wasn't moving at all, save his right hand, which he was flexing slowly. His eyes were going in and out of focus, and there was a strange expression on his face; amazement but confusion, surprise and disbelief. He obviously did not know or remember what was going on. The young man tried to speak, but his face kept twitching and he would flinch. Biting his lip, Celebros let out a slow breath and tried again. And again. And again. Gwalas shook his head. 'Stop it, Celebros,' he said quietly. 'He's hurting himself,' the Elf added in an undertone to Eldarion, a frusterated expression on his face. The boy's face relaxed, and he sighed, then closed his eyes wearily and fell asleep again immediately. 'He's weak,' Eldarion said softly. 'Too weak. And the fever hasn't gone down at all.' 'Hasn't gone up either.' 'It shouldn't still be at the same level!' 'I know.' Gwalas sighed heavily. 'My herbs haven't done as much as they should. There is something at work here I cannot fathom. Many things could have done this, true, but I cannot do anything unless I know what it was. The Galadil seldom use any of these methods, but then, they also seldom break their prisoners' ribs, beat them, and leave them in orc- tunnels. It's against the rules.' 'What things could have done this?' 'A very serious overdose of durthond that was not diluted enough could have done it, I suppose. But that might have killed him, too, and I do not think they would have tried to kill him that way. If they wanted to, they would want to see him die. If one of the broken ribs had puntured a lung, that might have done it. But it would not be able to be pierced to seriously, or he would be dead. There are many things, Eldarion, far too many for me to name. The point is...' 'What?' 'He needs help soon, but the traveling is affecting him. I don't know how much of this he can stand. I don't know how long he would last if we kept up like this, but it will be perhaps a week if we slow, and he might not last that long if something that I have not figured out is wrong with him. I don't know what to do, Eldarion. Which is the greater threat to his health: time or traveling?' Eldarion was silent, and Gwalas stopped speaking too. 'How long will it take if we go at this rate?' 'Three...four days?' 'Four days?' Eldarion frowned. If a few hours of slow riding...and two days... put Celebros in this state...but if waiting had caused him not to wake up and to be unable to speak... Some of this echoed in his mind suddenly, resounding, loud and harsh. Not to wake up. He would get better, he would be himself again. But Eldarion knew this was wrong. Celebros would never be 'himself' again; he was changed forever. Whatever scrap of him had remained from before he met Cundariel and they had set off North, it was now gone. Stolen, taken forever. Then would he ever truly 'get better' in Eldarion's mind? He would grow used to it, and get to know it, but what would be different? Many things, he knew. Perhaps not everything. The boy muttered something under his breath. The fever was not broken yet, and it could still be rising. There were many things wrong with the boy. No one, especially not of his age, should have to go through this. He looked up and saw that Gwalas was still looking at him expectantly. 'We should go fast,' he said resignedly. 'He has been traveling a very long time, and at a fairly fast rate, and he is not yet dead from it. We saw what waiting cost him, and that just a couple days.' Gwalas nodded. 'It makes sense,' he said quietly. 'Very well: we will go fast. What route should we take? Should we travel north to one of the passes near Imladris, or should we cross here and go north?' 'We should find a pass. Traveling over mountains would not be advisable.' 'Agreed. Do you know the passes? Where they are, how long, where they come out, and such?' 'Mmm...no. That could be a problem.' 'If we meet anyone at all, they could tell us.' 'But we won't meet anyone.' It was not a question but a simple statement of fact, and Gwalas knew it was true; they would not meet anyone, or at least if they did, they would already be on the pass. Anyone else in these parts would be hostile... 'No,' Gwalas sighed... 'No, we won't.'  
  
11 February, 59 FA  
  
'Well, here's the pass we've been looking for, so are we going to stand and look at it or are we going to go?' 'We'll go.' Gwalas reined the horse and turned into the beginning of the pass. It was less steep, but more winding. It was without a doubt the path leading to Imladris, for it was well-made, in plain sight, and used. Eldarion moved his horse forward too, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Celebros' weight against him was still hot but not sweating. The breathing was easier by a fraction, but only a fraction. His ruffled hair, longer by far than it had been when the young man had left the City, was left uncovered and exposed to the cold. They had had nothing to cover it with. The pass, fortunately, was not very rough, if not straight. They pressed on for a while, then stopped to eat and rest a bit, then mounted and traveled again. They saw no sign that anyone had been through very recently, but it had been snowing, and that would have covered up any tracks. Celebros was weak; in the night he had not moved or stirred at all. Too weak; the muscles were overused and abused too much. It could have been the fever, too, Eldarion mused, for he had not been so weak before. Or maybe it was that it was just getting to him. Gwalas stopped and looked around a moment. The evening was coming on and they would soon have to stop to eat and rest the night. He glanced over at Eldarion and his eyes rested on Celebros. 'How is he doing?' he asked quietly. Eldarion laid his hand on the boy's forehead. 'It hasn't gone down any,' he said. 'If anything, it has gone up.' 'If it goes up any more, he will die before we can get to Imladris.' Gwalas' voice was flat and blunt, but his face...anxious. Very anxious. He was trying to keep his voice steady, of course. 'We must hurry. It should not still be going up. I don't know...' Eldarion turned his head away, not wanting to hear any more. He moved further down the pass, and Gwalas, after hesitating a moment, followed. They stopped after nightfall, for there was no good place to rest. In addition to that, Gwalas seemed to want to press on as long as they could. When they stopped, Celebros seemed to be half-awake for a minute. He opened his eyes, dim and grey, and although they did not focus, he seemd to be trying to look around, except he didn't move his head. He slowly opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and did not even seem to try to. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes again.  
  
12 February, 59 FA  
  
Eldarion opened his eyes. Bright sunlight filtered over him. It was morning. There was someone moving around behind him. Gwalas. He sat up, yawning. One glance over at Celebros told him that something was not right. The boy's face was very pale, except for his cheeks which were flushed a bright red. Gwalas glanced his way. 'Good,' the Elf said breathlessly. 'I was just about to wake you. We must hurry on. Quickly, Eldarion, can you prepare the horses? We will eat on the move today. There is no time. 'We will not reach Imladris until tomorrow, or the next day if we are slowed.' They were moving again now. Celebros groaned softly in front of Eldarion. The bright light shone into the pass. Almost a canyon the pass was; deep and fairly wide in some places, and winding as it has been said before. They light was in his eyes, nearly blinding him. It would not be snowing today, and they would be able to more clearly see where they were going. They traveled quickly and steadily through the shallow snow. There was nothing and no one to be seen. But then, after about an hour. 'What is that?' Gwalas had moved up beside Eldarion's horse. He was peering ahead at soemthing before them on the path. 'Someone is there,' the Elf whispered. His voice was both uncertain and hopeful. 'Someone...can you see him?' 'Yes,' Eldarion breathed softly. 'Could you ride ahead to see who it -' He was cut off as the figure before them spotted them with a cry and a wave. Gwalas' eyes widened. 'Elladan,' he whispered. Then he rode forward quickly to meet him. Eldarion's heart rose. They had not expected to meet anyone, that was certain. He followed Gwalas, careful not to move so quickly that it hurt Celebros. 'You have him!' Eldarion heard Elladan exclaim to Gwalas. Elladan's horse whinneyed loudly as the Elves dismounted. Gwalas said something to Elladan as Eldarion reached them. In Sindarin, fast and worried. 'A day,' Elladan replied in Numenorean. He bent closer to Celebros as Eldarion dismounted and picked the boy up. His eyes widened. 'You are right,' he said to Gwalas. 'He is not in good condition. When did you find him?' 'Nine days ago, if I am correct,' Eldarion said quietly. 'He seemed all right for the first day or so, and then his temperature started to rise. It worsened from there.' 'We must hurry. Come along now! I can do nothing now. I need the help of Elrohir, and others in Imladris. Has he broken anything? What is wrong with him?' 'He was drugged fairly severly, we think,' Gwalas said. 'And he has several broken ribs, and his hand. Overall, he was abused badly and nearly killed. He is lucky to be alive.' 'He will not be for long, if we do not hurry. He is dying; that much is clear. I wish I could do something now, but I have nothing that would help him with me. We... to be honest, my brother and I did not expect to see him alive again.' 'How long will it take to get to Imladris? He's fading. He will not last much longer.' Elladan hesitated. 'My horse can ride fast; faster than yours perhaps. I do not know... but going at my fastest, I could reach Imladris by midnight.' 'I am sure our horses cannot go that quickly,' Eldarion said quietly. 'Go on then, I suppose, and we will be there by the morning.' Elladan looked troubled as they put the boy on his horse. Shaking his head, he mounted the barebacked horse quickly and whispered something to it. It leapt away with the speed of lightning. Eldarion stared after it numbly, and his horse started forward too. Gwalas' was right beside him.  
  
13 Febraury, 59 FA  
  
Elrohir bit his lip anxiously. Elladan would be out in a minute, but he had to know... The door opened, and through the shadows of pre-dawn he heard his brother's voice. 'I think he'll be all right. He's taken the worst beating I've seen. He's strong...' 'When will the King get here?' 'A week an a half? He's been coming for some weeks now.' 'And Eldarion and Gwalas?' 'Two hours at the most. They underestimate the speed of those horses.' 'But what about the boy? He must have caved. He must have answered their questions, look at the way they tortured him.' 'If he did - Elbereth, let him have held out - Valar help us all.'  
  
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Eldarion's footsteps echoed down the hall. Gwalas' made no sound, but the urgency in his face was obvious. The sun was rising, shedding a dim light through one high window. They turned the last corner to find Elladan and Elrohir speaking in an undertone in Sindarin. Elladan turned when he heard the chink of Eldarion's boots on the stone approaching. 'Is he -' Eldarion began, but Elrohir cut him off. 'I think he'll be all right in time. We've healed him as best we can, and it will sustain him long enough. Your father's coming, Eldarion. He set out the very day he heard the news. He'll be here in perhaps ten days.' 'Can we see him?' Eldarion asked. 'Yes.' Elladan and his brother stepped away from the door and let them in. Eldarion's breath caught in his throat when he saw the boy. Celebros' chest was wrapped, and his head. There was hardly an inch of his skin that was not bandaged. 'I hadn't realized...' Eldarion breathed. 'It isn't just the injuries. Frostbite, too - not too bad, but enough to affect skin color. How long was he in their custody again?' Elladan's voice wavered slightly. He got no answer, and didn't ask again. The Elves glanced suddenly at Eldarion, and left him with Celebros. Eldarion stared at the boy's face, the small parts he could see. The shirt that he had been wearing was lying by the bed. It was stained with blood. Eldarion lay his hand softly on the boy's hair and closed his eyes. Celebros let out a moan, and Eldarion blinked his eyes open. The boy's head fell to the side. 'No. No.' Eldarion put one hand on either of his nephew's shoulders and shook him gently, closing his eyes again and stretching out with his mind, imagining Celebros. 'Celebros... not now...no. Please...' Celebros stirred suddenly, and Eldarion opened his eyes, drawing back. 'Wha -' Celebros moaned. His eyes were open, but shut again, though it was clear he was still awake. His eyelids fluttered, and Eldarion lay his hand on the boy's hot forehead again. It was not as bad as it had been, the fever. Celebros' eyes opened again. 'Where am I?' he moaned, barely audible, his voice a weak whisper. 'Imladris.' 'What's happened to me?' Eldarion was stunned to silence for a moment. Surely the boy remembered something? 'Don't you remember?' 'No,' the boy whispered weakly. 'You were kidnapped...' 'I don't...there's something...' 'It's all right, Celebros,' Eldarion said, his voice shaking. 'it's all right...' 'There were Elves...' Celebros whispered, a faraway, misted look on his face mixed with pain and uncertainty. His eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip, breathing faster and pain flickering across his face. 'Elbereth...it hurt...it hurts...' 'My father's coming, Celebros, he'll be here in a few days. They're gone, it's safe.' Eldarion's eyes stung. 'I don't know what happened...I can't remember, I don't know. I don't know...' Celebros shook his head slowly. 'That's okay. Go to sleep, Celebros.' Celebros nodded and his eyes shut immediately. Eldarion looked at him a moment and then away, closing his own eyes and feeling the boy's dirty, disheveled hair under his hand. There was dry blood in it, dark and stiff. His hair had grown too; it was untidy and long. Eldarion's finger brushed a small spot where Celebros' skin was visible. There were bandages wrapped around all of his forehead and nose; it had been frostbitten. His cheeks had been slashed...Eldarion was realizing how much he had taken for granted when they had found the boy. They had been more worried about the fever and the broken bones, and they alone had appeared to be enough to kill Celebros. It was a miracle that he had lived. Elladan came in a few minutes later. 'He woke up,' Eldarion said quietly without looking up. 'He woke up?' Elrohir's voice rose sharply from near the door. 'He didn't remember anything.' 'Fever's gotten to him. It's amazing that he survived at all,' Elladan said. 'I doubt he'll be the same again. But he'll remember, more's the pity.' 'Is he going to lose anything to the frostbite?' Eldarion asked quietly. 'It's not too bad,' Elrohir said. 'It covers about half of his body, but it isn't severe, which in itself is amazing. One of the scouts was trapped in a less traveled pass for two days, and it looks like he might have to lose three of his fingers. I don't know how these things happen...' 'There's something about him...he doesn't give easily. He seems to recover a bit more than he really should. He's been affected by this more, of course, though, and I don't think he knows how to take it.' 'He'll be in pain physically for a long time after this, Eldarion.' Elladan said grimly, downcastedly. 'Broken bones never heal as they were before even if they were treated immediately, and it's been at least a month since his hand was crushed; broken in at least five places. And the ribs; I still can't believe he lived through this. Look at him. He should be dead. But it's his mental state I'd be worried about.' 'I know; he'll be hurting. He's never experienced this kind of thing before, nobody I know has. I can't imagine what they did to him. He told Gwalas and I that they threatened him that if he didn't go along with them, if he wasn't docile, they could hurt us; the people he cares for. I can't even imagine how much that tormented him, because he obviously believed it. We could hear him, muttering in his fevered dreams. It was terrible.' The elves were silent. 'Will he wake again soon, do you know?' 'He might,' Elrohir said softly, 'but if he does, there's not much of a chance it'll be for long, and if it is, he shouldn't be talked to much. Don't ask him about what he remembers, Eldarion. Reliving that will be too painful. Forgetting it all would be the only thing worse.' Their eyes all fixed on the boy. 'He needs a lot of work,' Elladan said softly. 'Where are Cundariel and Tasarian?' Eldarion asked suddenly. 'They're still out there, searching...they'll report back tonight. We sent too many searchers out to keep track of when they all left, but I think that they left three days ago tonight, and they're supposed to report back after that if they don't find anything.' 'All right.' The elves left again, and a minute after they did Gwalas walked in and sat opposite Eldarion, staring at Celebros' face. 'I can still hardly believe he's alive,' he whispered 'Not a complaint. Just...I didn't think he was going to make it. That fever; but he seems to recover from those. It's amazing, like nothing I've ever seen, but of course we elves don't get sick. I get used to it. I used to heal prisoners of minor injuries, only occasionally anything serious, and if they got sick...' He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. 'How are you holding up?' Eldarion's bleak expression turned to surprise. 'Haven't thought about it much,' he muttered. 'Haven't eaten or slept, that's for sure. I've been too worried.' Gwalas nodded. 'I know what you mean,' he said gently, 'but you had better get some sleep, something to eat, while he's asleep. I'll watch him, and Elladan and Elrohir are nearby. I've eaten, and I can go without sleep longer than you. It's in my nature.' Eldarion blinked. Suddenly he was tired, suddenly he could hardly keep his eyes open. 'All right.' 'Go down the hall, to the left. There's an unused room. We'll wake you if anything happens -' Eldarion left the room, and Gwalas looked soberly at the boy's still face.  
  
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'We've found him,' were the first words Cundariel heard from Elladan's mouth. 'Is he -' Tension hung in her voice. 'He's alive, but he's in terrible condition. Eldarion and Gwalas found him half-dead, and for now we've done all we can. He's unconcious now, we're worried about him going severely comatose. Do you want to see him?' 'Yes,' Tasarian said, glancing at Cundariel for affirmation. She nodded. 'Where did they find him?' Cundariel asked. 'In the orc-tunnels. The Galadil had left him moments before, apparently, but they weren't worried about that then. Here.' They turned a corner, and a second one, and then were before an open door. 'Gwalas is in there...he seems to feel responsible for this.' 'Where's Eldarion?' 'Asleep, since this afternoon. He didn't sleep, appar-ently, for days. Not much, at least.' Elladan motioned toward the door. 'I have to get Elrohir; you won't have long to be there. We have to examine him.' Tasarian put his hand on his sister's shoulder. 'It's not a pretty sight; he has broken ribs and his hand, and he's frostbitten. Been cut up, and burned, and drugged, and tormented, and...it's unbelievable he survived. We thought he was going to die.' Cundariel nodded, and Tasarian's hand on her shoulder tightened. She looked at him, her face numb, as if she had been stunned but was hiding it with grimness and sadness and worry. 'Tell Gwalas I will be back in a few moments,' Elladan said, and hurried away. Tasarian still gripping her shoulder, they entered the room, lit with two torches and moonlight through the window. Gwalas looked up soberly, then looked down again at the almost unrecognizable form in the bed. 'I heard what Elladan said,' he told them hollowly. Cundariel did not answer; her eyes were fixed on the boy's face almost hypnotically, unblinking. Almost all of his skin was covored. All around his neck, and what was visible of his chest, were wrapped, and much of his face. She was unaware of Tasarian's painfully tight grasp; he too stared and was unable to look away. 'What have they done to him?' her brother breathed after a long silence. Gwalas' eyes looked dead. 'When we found him,' he said, also staring at the boy, 'he had been badly tortured, beaten, almost frozen and starved to death...drugged so severely that that, with a mixture of only one of the others, it could have killed him. When we first found him, we thought he was dead. His breath, his pulse were so weak we could hardly feel them. We couldn't at first.' Cundariel sank down next to the bedside. 'He'll be all right now, though, won't he?' Tasarian asked softly, tearing his gaze away to stare at Gwalas' haunted face. There was no answer at first. Then slowly the elf formed a reply with fumbling words. 'Everything could still go wrong before the King gets here. He could go into a more severe coma, a less temporary one, or his wounds could get infected, or the fever could return - if it does, it will almost certainly kill him. His body is too weak - it will destroy him. It's still too soon to tell...and this is so frusterating for me. I can't do anything to help him; anything at all. He doesn't remember. He woke earlier, for hardly more than one minute, and he didn't remember what had happened. Memory will return, but with it will come pain. He'll never be the same.' Cundariel's fingers brushed a place where the boy's skin was uncovored, and for a fleeting instant she thought he stirred, or something. But no. He was as still as the stars in the velvet sky.  
  
14 February, 59 FA  
  
Eldarion's eyes met Elrohir's solemly and steadily, and the elf shook his head. 'I don't know,' he said softly, sadly. Eldarion's eyes closed slowly. 'Any word from my father?' 'No. We haven't sent him the news yet, but I will as soon as Elladan is done with the boy.' 'What precisely happened?' 'All I know is, he was talking to Gwalas one moment, and the next he had a seizure. It sent him into a coma, as we feared. I don't know what caused it. Gwalas seems fairly shaken about it; the boy was talking lucidly and then he started to convulse.' Eldarion's jaw was set tight. 'When will my father's escort be here?' 'A week. No less, maybe a day later at the most...I haven't had as much experience as Elladan in this sort of case, so I cannot say anything for sure. This is looking bad.' 'I know,' Eldarion sighed, his eyes anguished. 'I know, but this just feels impossible. He's never completely healed from the many ordeals he's been thorugh, but we've always thought of him as...undestroyable. He always comes back changed, but he always comes back. We still don't know what happened in some of these things that happen to him, like when he first met Cundariel.' 'Elladan hasn't dealt with this before either, but he knows what he's doing.' 'I know; if there's a way to heal him, Elladan or my father can do it. Have you seen Gwalas?' 'No. Not since it happened.' 'It seems like longer than just this morning. How about Cundariel and Tasarian?' 'They were in his room, until Elladan came in. I think they went out into the gardens, down by one of the waterfalls. Cundariel seems pretty shocked. He was getting better. I don't know what happened, or how.' 'None of us do. I'm going to go find them...need to talk to them.' 'All right.'  
  
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Tasarian watched his sister from the edge of the river. She was continuing on along its shores; Tasarian had stopped to let her be alone for a while. She hadn't asked him to, not wanting to hurt his feelings, although he understood. But he knew she needed time. There was a sound from behind him, and he turned. Eldarion was standing there, looking at Cundariel's progress down the rocky shore. 'Hello,' the Man said hollowly. Tasarian nodded. 'She's not taking this well,' he told Eldarion. 'Well?' Eldarion glanced sharply down, shaking his head. 'Who is taking this well? I don't know about you, but I'm not. Gwalas isn't.' 'That's not what I meant.' 'I know...I'm sorry, but it's so hard watching this happen, Tasarian. He's like a son to me; he hardly knows his father. I've lost Meneldil already, I don't think I can stand to lose him too.' 'You won't.' Tasarian wished he was that sure, but he didn't say it. 'Your father is on the way, and you know what they say.' 'Yes,' Eldarion muttered, 'and it's not that I doubt my father, quite the contrary, it's just...I -' 'I know,' Tasarian said, nodding again. Eldarion sank down to sit next to him on the rocks. 'What happened to Meneldil, Eldarion? If you don't mind my asking.' 'I don't mind,' Eldarion said softly. 'But to be truthful, we're not exactly sure. Aeargil was asleep, and when she woke up, he wasn't breathing.' His voice almost broke, but he managed to steady it. 'We don't know what it was. It was so sudden; he was in perfect health and then - well, we were playing with him that morning and everything was fine and then Aeargil went to sleep and I went onto the tower, and when I came back everyone was panicked. I think I asked someone, a servant, and she just whispered, "The baby," and hurried away. I don't remember much about... about what happened or...' Tasarian, who had been watching him and listening with a look of pity and sadness, nodded. 'That's all right,' he said, and Eldarion turned his face away so that the elf wouldn't see the brightness of his eyes.  
  
21 February, 59 FA  
  
'Nothing has changed,' Elladan told King Elessar, before even the proper honors that ought to be paid to a king at a meeting. King Elessar didn't seem to notice. 'Nothing.' 'Very well.' His voice was flat and sober. 'Where are Eldarion and Gwalas? I will need to speak to them about their first assesment of his situation before trying to treat him further.' 'Their first assesment,' Elrohir said, biting off the words sharply, 'was that the boy was dead.' King Elessar's face was drawn and pale, and at this statement he looked shocked and horrified, and closed his eyes momentarily. 'Where are they?' 'With Celebros. Eldarion stays there unless we tell him to go sleep, or eat. Gwalas is there a deal of the time, but not constantly. Cundariel and Tasarian are by the river - they don't know you're here yet. I sent someone to tell them.' 'All right - show me to them.'  
  
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'We came up to him,' Gwalas said quietly, 'We thought he was dead; Eldarion checked for breath and found none, but he had a pulse, very weak. He must have been breathing very faintly. He was very cold, there were slashes all over his body, a thin cut on his neck, blood on his scalp. His hand is broken, and two or three ribs. There is a very unnatural burn on the back of his neck, as if it was branded there by magic. We moved him, and when he woke he was lucid occasionally. Then the fever burned his mind as his neck was burned, and he became very weak.' 'All right,' King Elessar said, nodding, and took a deep breath. 'If you would leave us, Gwalas.' Gwalas nodded and strode out of the room, glancing back at the still form of Celebros and the equally inert Eldarion, who had not spoken a word to his father since his arrival. 'Eldarion,' King Elessar said softly, a hand on his son's shoulder. Eldarion flinched away at the contact, and his father's eyes narrowed. Was it hurt in King Elessar's eyes? Pity? 'I'm sorry,' Eldarion said softly, 'I'm sorry.' He met his father's eyes very unwillingly, and the King had a sudden urge to move away. His face was blank, dead, and the only shred of emotion was terrible sadness in his eyes. 'Eldarion, was he drugged?' 'Yes. Badly. Starved, drugged, frozen, beaten.' Surprise flickered over Eldarion's face as his father swore quietly. 'I wish I knew how much he told them. We're in a difficult situation.' Eldarion nodded shortly, and turned his gaze back to Celebros, sitting stiffly. He didn't watch his father taking out various herbs that Elrond's sons had given him. There were two bowls of steaming water that had also been brought in, and Eldarion did look up as King Elessar put the some of the herbs into one. The normal freshness of athelas did sweep over them, and color appeared in their faces, but along with it was a curious smell, like rain and roses and fresh earth, like and yet unlike the kingsfoil. With the second there was no scent and no freshness, and Eldarion watched his father tip it down Celebros' throat and help the comatose young man swallow. Celebros coughed suddenly, but did not wake. Eldarion's eyes came to life slightly more. 'Call him.' Eldarion looked at his father and obeyed the request - the order. 'Celebros...wake up.' Celebros stirred, and coughed again. His eyelids fluttered open, and Eldarion concealed a gasp. His eyes did not focus. He couldn't see. 'No,' the boy moaned, trembling, 'not again.' 'What have they done to him?' Eldarion gasped very quietly. 'Celebros...' Celebros gasped. 'Eldarion?' His hand groped out and met Eldarion's hand. His uncle almost shuddered at the coldness of it. Breathing hard, Celebros pressed Eldarion's hand to his own cheek. With a sigh of relief King Elessar took Celebros' other hand. 'King Elessar?' 'We're here, Celebros,' Eldarion whispered. 'I can't see,' the boy whispered. 'It's only temporary,' King Elessar assured him. 'It will last a few days.' 'I thought it was all a dream,' Celebros muttered, 'I was so afraid it was all a dream.' 'It's all right,' King Elessar said. 'Celebros, I'm sorry, but I need to know what they asked. Not what you said, but the questions. We can talk about other things later, after you've rested more, but I need to know what they asked.' 'How many soldiers. Our allies. How much supplies. How advanced technology. And what people looked like.' He sighed, and weakly lifted his hand to touch the back of his bandaged neck. When he had touched it his arm went limp and fell atop the coverlet, and he winced hard. Then, with a moan, he fell asleep again.  
  
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'We are done for,' Eldarion moaned. 'Look at the state of him. He must have told them everything down to the rations our horses eat.' 'Have patience. We will find out in time.' 'How long will it take him to recover his sight?' 'Four days, perhaps.' 'Maybe whatever he told them warded them off. Maybe they left him because they had underestimated us.' His father barked a laugh, a very uncharacteristic and forced one. 'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'I may never have met them, but they found out what they needed. They would have killed him if they couldn't find anything out. I wish I knew why they didn't.' 'Father, if we had found him an hour later he would have been dead. It's a miracle he made it here. He should be dead, by all rights.' The king was silent for a while. Then he looked up again at Eldarion. 'Why didn't you just ask?' he whispered. There was something in his voice. Eldarion couldn't quite place it. Pain? 'What?' 'Why didn't you ask us? We would have let you go. We wouldn't have tried to hold you back. Elbereth, no. I don't understand it. It's tearing my soul apart. You didn't think we'd let you? You didn't want to admit it to us, that you were hurting, that you needed to leave? It hurt your mother. She cried, the night you left, for hours, because she thought you were leaving forever, that you didn't trust us. She might have even thought you blamed us. I don't know.' Eldarion was taken aback. He hadn't thought, since leaving the City...he'd virtually forgotten the way he slipped away... he had never once wondered how it must have hurt his parents, what it must have seemed like to them. 'I'm sorry,' he said, looking back at his father. 'I'm sorry. It happened so fast, and Aeargil took it so hard, and we couldn't think, I couldn't stand it, it was driving me mad...' The king's face was masked by his hand, but his shoulders were quivering as he remembered. 'It's all right,' King Elessar said quietly, shaking his head, 'I'm sorry I brought it up. You've been through enough. Too much. That was unfair. Of course you couldn't think. Who could? 'But you're angry, my son. You're angry at someone here, someone near. I don't know whether, it's me, or yourself, or Gwalas, or even Celebros, but -' Celebros woke suddenly with a gasp, as if he had been called again when his name was spoken. Eldarion's hand was instantly on his shoulder, steadying him, speaking to him in a soft voice, calming him. Celebros let out his breath slowly and let Eldarion run his hand through his hair gingerly. 'I didn't tell them anything,' he whispered suddenly and clutched Eldarion's hand, stilling it. Eldarion looked at him, then at his father, who was looking grim. 'I didn't tell them anything about the city, about our forces. I told him what people looked like, but I didn't tell him anything about the city. Nothing!' 'Of course,' said Eldarion slowly, cooly. 'Of course.' 'You don't believe me?' Celebros accused, sucking in a breath as if he'd been punched. 'You don't. Do you? Truthfully. Honestly. You don't? You think I'm lying? You don't believe that what I'm saying is true?' 'No,' said Eldarion firmly. 'You're not well. You've just woken up from a nightmare. You want to deny that you did anything, naturally. Elbereth, I would too. That's all right. We don't blame you for whatever you told them. But right now? You're not lucid, Celebros.' He realized after he stopped that he'd been a bit brutally honest, which might not have been the best strategy. His father's face was impassive. 'Ask me a question,' Celebros said, almost pleadingly. 'Ask me a question that can help you determine whether I'm lucid.' 'What are you thinking?' Eldarion asked softly. 'Do you want me to be bluntly honest, or to lie to make you feel better?' His voice was abruptly bitter and harsh. 'No, never mind. I'll be honest. I'm shattered, because you think that I would betray you. You don't believe that I would endure years of torture and a slow and painful death to save you. You think I'm not sane. You don't believe me, you question my credibility, after what I've gone through to save you.' Well, Eldarion thought dazedly. That was even more brutally honest than my answer. Celebros still had a hold on his wrist, which was frozen in place. He seemed to realize how bitter his response had been, and released Eldarion's hand. Eldarion's father, looking also fairly stunned by the completely lucid answer, nodded at him. 'You didn't tell them anything about the City?' Celebros tried to shake his head and winced hard, coughed, took a gasping breath, and regained his voice. 'Nothing,' he whispered, 'Nothing at all,' before falling into blackness. +++++  
  
Tasarian blinked, trying to drive away the feeling he got in his throat when he stared at Celebros' still form. Better, the king had said. He would get better. Tasarian thought back to the day the boy had rescued him and his sister from Galadon's prison. Quiet, he had been. That was the way he had been before. But the fight, the fight to save his life, his sister's life, all their lives, had changed him, just as this would change him. He would still be quiet. He would be different. His sister shivered as if a blast of icy air had enveloped her. He came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her tight in a comforting hug. A tear fell on his skin. 'He'll be all right,' he whisered to Cundariel. 'He'll be fine.' 'I just keep thinking about the look on Eldarion's face,' she whispered, reaching up and holding his arms, 'the look when he left here...the king said Celebros was blind.' 'And then he said that his vision would return fully in a week or less.' 'But he can't see, he can't see us. He's lucid, they said, but he's extremely weak and he can't see. He's very tired. They kept him on the durthond frequently enough that he wants it, he's withdrawn from it, although he doesn't seem to realize it. He's healing slowly. But there are some things that can't heal.' She looked around at her younger brother, up at him. He was taller than her now. 'There are some things that will never head.' 'I know,' Tasarian said quietly, loosing his grip from her and walking around to the other side of the bed. He leaned against the side, staring at the boy who had saved him, and looked up again. 'But Celebros is different. Celebros is special.' He brushed the boy's cheek with his finger. 'I know,' she sighed. 'I'm just afraid for him. He can never live a normal life now.' Tasarian laughed sharply. 'Heirs of the kings seldom do,' he said quietly.  
  
24 February, 59 FA  
  
Celebros listened to Eldarion's voice telling him all sorts of things. All about how Imladris looked, how beautiful it was. He could hear the waterfalls in the backround. His face hardened, tensed, as Eldarion's voice melded into the backround. 'Birds and trees and animals all around, it's really - Celebros? What's wrong?' 'I had been almost hoping it had all been a dream, at first,' he whispered musingly. 'What? Elbereth, Celebros! Why?' Celebros turned his head, his blank, unseeing eyes toward Eldarion. 'Meneldil,' he whispered, his face contorted with pain. 'I already expected to die, so it wouldn't have hurt me as much. I wanted you all to live. All of you. He didn't deserve it. I'm sorry.' 'You couldn't have changed it. You don't deserve death, Celebros, and as much as I wish we could change things like that, we can't, and we both have to learn to accept that.' 'I wish I could see you,' Celebros whispered, and a tear rolled across his face. 'I wish I could see you, and King Elessar, and Gwalas and everyone. Tasarian. Cundariel.' 'Your sight should return any time now.' 'I...' He was crying now, silently. 'I'm forgetting things. I can't remember what anyone looks like clearly. It's driving me mad. I can remember Snaga,' he gave a watery smile, 'and Pernathos, and your mother, but I can't remember you, or Gwalas, or Cundariel, Tasarian, or your father...I hate it!' he cried out in despair. 'I hate it!' There was a sound from the doorway, and Eldarion turned around. Gwalas was there, using the door frame as support. His eyes were hollow, with dark circles underneath them - how long had it been since he slept, Eldarion wondered. Elves could go a long time sleepless without tiring at all. Gwalas looked exhausted. 'Gwalas?' Celebros asked, and Eldarion turned back to him. How could he know? 'Yes, my boy,' Gwalas said, his voice a bit faint. 'How did you know?' Eldarion asked blandly. Celebros shrugged. 'I knew there was someone there, because I heard you turn around. And I didn't hear them come, and neither of you spoke to each other.' Gwalas, looking slightly startled, shrugged at Eldarion's raised eyebrows. 'Just because I can't see, it doesn't mean I can't sense anything,' Celebros said quietly. 'How did you know I wasn't turning to look a...a bird?' 'How would you know a bird was there without looking? And anyway, there's birds on the other side.' 'Your logic, as usual, is impenetrable,' Gwalas sighed. 'How are you feeling?' 'I feel...better, I don't know. Bit tired, and my ribs ache.' 'We'd be worried if they didn't.' Celebros nodded and shuddered. 'Eldir kicks pretty hard.' 'The filthy bastard,' Eldarion added angrily. 'Looks like that's about all he does.' Celebros shook his head wearily. 'He does more than kick,' he whispered, and Eldarion's expression softened. 'We're just glad you're here,' Gwalas whispered. 'Celebros, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' 'What?' Celebros' face twisted in genuine confusion. Gwalas sighed. 'I didn't put on a guard. I should have put on a guard. It's my fault. I'm sorry.' Celebros laughed, to Eldarion's and Gwalas' surprise. It ended abruptly, and with a wince, but it hadn't been harsh or forced. 'Listen to me, my friend,' Celebros said quietly, now sober, 'if there had been a guard, then the guard would have been killed, along with all of you. There were too many of them, and they were too lethal. Honestly, Gwalas, truthfully. I'm glad you didn't put on a guard, because all that would have caused would be more suffering. It's not your fault. It was better this way.' Gwalas looked doubtful, and Eldarion was momentarily glad that Celebros couldn't see the elf shaking his head, disag-reeing. Gwalas left, and Celebros waved his hand weakly as he did so. Eldarion shook his head in amazement at the skills the boy had picked up. He truly was amazing. Tasarian looked in almost immediately after. 'Hello, Celebros. Eldarion. How are you?' Celebros shrugged. 'Just a bit tired. Is Cundariel around?' Tasarian shook his head, and then laughed silently to himself. 'No. She's out with Elrohir. They're working with some of the injured horses.' The boy nodded, and turned his head toward the outside. 'I wish I could see it,' he said, smiling. 'It sound so beautiful here; the waterfalls and the river.' 'It won't be long now,' Eldarion sighed. 'Father said it wouldn't be long.' 'Tomorrow, maybe. I know.' 'Celebros,' Tasarian said, a bit uneasily, 'I regret not continuing to follow you. We returned to here, to look for help, but we might have found you.' 'They knew you were following,' Celebros said firmly. 'I got the idea they were about to send a group of assassins back to you when you left.' 'They knew?' the Elf breathed. 'I want to get my bow aimed toward that...that...' 'Bastard,' Eldarion supplied, 'Dirty, filthy, destructive, evil bastard.' Tasarian's eyes twinkled, partly in amusement, but Eldarion saw the hatred that he held at bay. 'I want to kill him.' Eldarion nodded, but Celebros smiled grimly and shook his head. 'I think I'm entitled to that privilege,' he murmered, and neither of the others could disagree. After Tasarian left, Celebros let out a heavy sigh. 'I wish I didn't have to keep reassuring people,' he groaned. 'Oh well.' 'We all to some degree or another feel responsible, Cele-bros. Even my father. He thinks it's his fault because he was the one who decided you had to come here. And everyone in your escort feels guilty for not putting up a guard, no matter what they say. And I feel guilty for not being in the escort in the first place.' Celebros shook his head. There was silence between them a moment, then Celebros asked, 'Does he know who it was? In the City?' 'A Galadil spy. We didn't catch him, but it was apparently his plan to kill you there, or bring you to Eldir, or some-thing.' 'It was so carefully thought out,' Celebros whispered. 'I think now that the first time they caught me they had already wanted me. They wouldn't go to that much trouble to catch a tresspasser.' Eldarion made a sharp, indistinct sound. Celebros sighed. 'And I feel strange,' he continued. 'Like I need something. Like I'm looking for something. Like...I don't know. It's strange.' 'Durthond,' the older man said gently. 'It's addictive.' Celebros shuddered again, and Eldarion grimaced. 'Did he say how many they have?' 'Seven thousand four hundred fifty.' 'What?! They had to be bluffing.' 'I don't know,' Celebros said thoughtfully. 'They've been gathering people for a long time. But not all of them are loyal.' 'Yes, Celebros, I have met Gwalas.' 'No, but a lot of them. They're just scared to leave. Eldir is, I think, a bit mad. He was talking to another elf, I overheard their conversation, and if I didn't know better I would have said that Eldir had something personal against me. It was as if I had killed his mother or something, it was eerie.' 'Well,' Eldarion said, 'I don't know whether to hope he is, because that could mean he was just having fits and that sort of thing, or that he's sane, because if he is sane he might see sense, but if he's already evil enough to do this, then he's pretty hopelessly addicted to people's pain.' 'Hope that he's mad,' Celebros sighed, 'because a madman is more easily fooled. He doesn't see simple plans.' Eldarion didn't answer. Celebros fell asleep a few minutes later, and Eldarion stayed. He thought about what must have happened to Celebros over the last two months, and wondered why it had to be that boy. He turned around. His father was in the doorway, silent and still as stone, his eyes the only thing moving at all. A smile twitched at the edges of the King's mouth, but did not emerge onto his face fully. 'How is he?' he asked quietly. 'He's hurting,' Eldarion said, not meeting his father's eyes. 'He's hurting so badly...he's noticed the durthond withdrawl symptoms. And he's suffering from not being able to see...he said he's forgetting things, how people look. What the...what Eldir did to him...he should be dead. There's no way someone could survive what he's been through, much less without telling what they wanted to know. Why did it have to be him? Why not someone else? They could have as easily threatened me, had me sent out of the City, taken me - Elbereth knows I know more about the City than he does -' 'But that isn't why they took him,' King Elessar said softly, 'that's just their excuse. It's a cover-up. They wanted him for something else. There was another reason.' 'Then what? Why? If they wanted him for ransom...they could have gotten a lot more for me than they could for him...' 'Maybe they thought you would be more likely to escape.' The King didn't like to imagine the same things happening to Eldarion as had happened to Celebros, it was bad enough to see it firsthand. 'He said it wasn't anyone's fault,' Eldarion said. 'He's so blasted noble. He makes sure no one feels at fault. How can he do that? How can he think about something like that, now?' 'You know who he is,' his father said simply, and for a moment Eldarion felt almost a surge of anger at the King. 'Yes,' Eldarion sighed. 'I just wish it wasn't him.' King Elessar pur a hand on his son's shoulder. 'So do I,' he said softly, and Eldarion leaned his head onto his father's hand.  
  
2 March, 59 FA  
  
Celebros dangled his legs over the edge of the bank, his bare feet dipping into the water of the river. His eyes stared blankly at nothing. Eldarion watched him carefully. It was the first time Celebros had been out since then, and he was much quieter than usual. He hadn't spoken to Eldarion since they had reached the waterside. It pained him to see Celebros' very obvious limp, and his wince, and his dependancy on his uncle so that he wouldn't trip and fall on something he could not see. 'Celebros,' Eldarion said at last, and Celebros turned his head so that his blank eyes faced the speaker, 'what are you thinking about?' Celebros seemed to debate with himself a moment, then turned his head back straight. 'Will I really regain my sight?' he asked finally. Eldarion was quite taken aback. 'Yes - of course - you don't think that -' he faltered. Celebros was silent. 'I don't remember what it's like to see,' he said finally. 'I took it for granted. I remember what a color is. I remember lots of things. But this blackness is unbearable. He said a week. He said it. If I ever do see again, I'll adjust. And if I don't...well, I'll have to adjust to that too. But what if he miscalculated?' 'He didn't miscalculate,' Eldarion reassured him, 'you know him. Has he ever miscalculated something like this?' 'There has to be a first time,' Celebros whispered, so quiet Eldarion could hardly hear it. Eldarion didn't pursue the subject. 'Are you still feeling the withdrawl?' he asked. 'How could I not? I want it. I want it. If you set it in front of me, I would drink it. I wouldn't be able to help it.' 'You've got to fight it.' 'How? How can I fight what I want? I need it. I can't fight it. I don't even think I want to fight it.' 'You're cold. Do you want to go back in? Do you want a blanket?' Celebros shook his head. 'I'm always cold. I like it out here. Anyway, I'm only partly cold. My neck and chest are warm.' He touched the bandages. 'And my hand. But the rest is always cold; always.' His voice was strange, and it made Eldarion stare. Calm, smooth. Eldarion shivered himself from a mixture of things. 'I'd rather you were all cold,' he muttered. Celebros smiled and shook his head. 'Everyone does,' he said, 'but wishing for it doesn't help. I'm sorry, but it doesn't. It's happened. It won't change. But my body will heal.' Eldarion didn't want to say anything to the contrary, so he settled for silence. After a moment of this, Celebros spoke again. 'Why did they want me so bad?' 'We don't know,' Eldarion said. 'I asked my father the same question. Gwalas doesn't know.' Celebros changed the subject. 'What will happen to Gwalas if they ever find him?' 'I expect he'd be killed.' Eldarion sighed. 'Is there a point to this?' 'No,' Celebros said emotionlessly. There was another quiet, and then Eldarion brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them. 'Celebros, what did they do to the back of your neck?' 'Burned it.' 'But how? I'm sorry, but my father is worried about it. It isn't a natural burn. It wasn't done with fire.' 'I don't know,' Celebros said. Eldarion couldn't tell whether it was a truth or a lie, because the only way to tell with Celebros was to read the emotion in his eyes.  
  
5 March, 59 FA  
  
King Elessar smiled at his son. 'I did miscalculate, yes,' he said quietly. 'Obviously. It was worse than I thought, and the combination of the withdrawl and the drugs I gave him was more potent than I thought. But it should be any time now. Today, even. His sight will be dim at first, misty. But it should all return.' 'I don't think he believes it anymore,' Eldarion sighed. 'I wasn't sure for a while whether I did. He doesn't think it's ever going to return.' 'It will,' his father said reassuringly. 'Is he awake yet?' 'No,' Gwalas answered, coming out of Celebros' room. 'He will be soon. He stayed up late last night. I think he might have been writing something. I came in, and he was murmering something to himself about the moon. It's eerie, the way he can tell who you are without seeing you.' Eldarion smiled. 'I find it rather calming. It's always awkward to have to say, "It's me; Eldarion; how are you?" And you know that he still knows us and everything underneath...' 'But he always says he's all right. Well, not exactly. He'll say he's a bit cold, but that's all right; it doesn't bother him. Or that his chest aches, but then what else could we expect. And he'll laugh. It's not a reassuring laugh.' Gwalas was unsettled. 'I agree about the laugh,' Eldarion said. 'And if you ask him something, his voice is so...cold. Impassive. Frozen.' 'I'd noticed,' Gwalas sighed. 'He's not thinking about what's happening now as much. I can't blame him. Did he tell you about...he said he's forgetting things, what people look like. I wish he would get his sight back soon. He seems to be giving up.' Eldarion stood suddenly. 'I'm - going in.' His voice was suddenly strangled and forced. He walked into Celebros' room and sat down slowly and quietly. He wasn't sure whether he wasn't quiet enough or he was, but Celebros woke. He didn't open his eyes. 'Eldarion?' he said softly, and turned his head away. 'Yes.' Celebros gasped, and cried out suddenly. He turned his head back toward Eldarion, who echoed the gasp. He had opened his eyes. They were clear and focused slowly. But they focused. 'I - can -' he gasped, and laughed aloud. 'I -' There was a sound from behind Eldarion; a quick exhalation, almost a laugh. Celebros' eyes moved to the King Elessar leaning against the doorframe and Gwalas coming in behind him and laughed again, delighted. 'I can see,' the young man breathed. 'It isn't very clear -' 'It will be in a few days,' Eldarion's father said, smiling. 'Only a few days. I promise, this time.' 'I can see.'  
  
7 May, 59 FA  
  
Celebros looked up as someone pounded on the door. He stood up and walked with his half-limp over to it apprehensively. He waited a moment before opening it. 'Oh,' Celebros sighed with relief, 'Eldarion. I thought it was my mother again. You know, she's come by about once every three hours in the past three days since we've gotten back?' 'I'll have a word with her,' Eldarion grinned. 'Better you than me,' Celebros muttered. 'Want to come in?' 'Sure,' Eldarion shrugged. He picked up the book Celebros had been reading. 'Immortal Dagger: Lost Tales?' 'Ever read it?' 'No. Haven't even heard of it.' 'I'm not very surprised,' Celebros said. 'It had about an inch of dust covering it when I found it. In the Great Library, you know. Probably hadn't been touched since Ecthelion the First was around.' 'What's it about?' 'I can't exactly tell yet,' Celebros said with a smile. 'Part One is in some sort of runes. Very old. Maybe some form of Quenya. I'm trying to decode it. I've only got a few words so far. They look very interesting. I don't suppose I'll ever really finish it; Part Two is in the Black Speech. Elbereth knows why. Maybe it's secret or something. And Part Three is Sindarin, but it's absolute gibberish.' To prove his point, he opened to the back. Cross-eyed, he tried to read the first sentence on the page. '"And they said unto him, 'Go now, and be grateful we didn't turn you into a llama.' And he went into the city and found there many beasts of burden, but no llamas."' 'Let me see that. That can't be right.' Eldarion pulled to book away and stared at it. 'Elbereth! You're right! But it's not llama, it's goat, or something. It must be some sort of code.' 'Oh well. I can always try.' 'Celebros?' Eldarion said after a long silence, looking at his nephew and noticing how different he seemed. It wasn't just the scars, either, although that did make a difference. The boy looked up. 'Yeah?' 'How did you get the burn? On your neck?' 'He - asked me about the city. I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't. Then he grabbed me, and dragged me onto a - sort of table. And he tied me there. There was this little black rod. It must have been infused with some fire magic or something. He put it on the back of my neck...it was freezing cold at first, and then it got - it got hot.' Eldarion was quiet. Celebros could see the shock and surprise on his face. The young man shook his head. 'There could have been worse things,' he said quietly. 'I was so afraid he was going to burn my face, or my arms or hands - but he didn't. The verbal play, the game he had in motion...that was much worse. Knowing how weak I was.' Eldarion looked even more startled. 'Weak,' he repeated in a flat voice. He strode across the room and pulled Celebros into a fierce hug. Celebros returned it unhesitatingly. Eldarion held him out to arm's length. 'Elbereth, you're almost taller than I am,' he said softly. 'Celebros, if there is one thing that you are not - one thing! - it's weak. If you were weak, you would have been dead months ago, and you would have betrayed us all very quickly. You're not weak. You're stronger than I am.' 'Thanks, Eldarion,' Celebros whispered. Then he opened the book and continued his attempts to translate Part One. Outside, the birds sang in the afternoon breeze, and the sun sucked darkness from the world. 


	4. Book Three: Curtain of Darkness

Prologue  
  
'My King.' 'Malgalad. How are the attacks going?' 'Very well, Your Highness. The last report said they are very optomistic. The Methnan forces are inexperienced and weak. We will avenge our men.' 'How many did you say were killed when they attacked us, Malgalad?' 'Twenty-two, Your Highness. Two scouting parties.' 'Aye. I would like to speak with the relatives of those who died, Malgalad.' 'I'm afraid that's not possible, Your Highness.' 'What? Why?' The eyes of Eomer's councillor gleamed, and he set a cold hand on the shoulder of the King. 'Because I say it isn't possible, Your Highness.' 'I understand.' 'Is it possible?' Eomer's eyes dulled yet more. His voice thick, he responded monotonously. 'No. It is not possible.' He somehow missed seeing the cold, triumphant yet unsurprised smile on his councillor's face.  
  
Galadon was beginning to enjoy the game he played here as much as he had enjoyed questioning prisoners at his fortress. The King, of coruse, was completely blind to what was happening to him. Whenever he asked about the men who had supposedly died, 'Malgalad' would smile coldly, and the fool 'King Eomer' would be unresisting to his rare skills in coercing. Of course, Methnan had never attacked Rohirrim men. And of course, they were completely innocent. But Galadon didn't like innocent people, and if he didn't like them, they ended up the way that ridiculous turncoat Rilhir had.  
  
Curtain of Darkness  
  
Rain fell heavily, but the rider and horse did not halt. Too urgent was the errand to be slowed by something as small as the weather. Had an earthquake split the ground apart at their feet, the horse would have continued on towards the City. The City of Minas Tirith in Gondor, which was known as the greatest city of Men, was indeed the destination, and the rider had not stopped for days. Exhaustion was weighing down the horse's speed, or the two would have been a blur, barely distinguishable through the sheets of rain and the heavy winds. But the rain poured on, hurtling down from the sky, and eventually, the horse slowed its pace, much as the rider begged it to go on. The horse was fatigued, and had it been any other horse, and this any other rider, and the errand any but what it was, the noble steed would have fallen long before. But this was not any other horse, this was a horse of Rohan, and an intelligent one. It sensed the need of the one it bore, and rode on through the gale. Although slower now, it still carried its burden at a pace which told any that the message was a matter of life and death. Sharp blue-green eyes shone out from beneath the sodden grey hood, searching the land ahead, begging to meet someone. But no...after everything that had happened in the last eighteen months, security was tighter, and the fields were empty. Lightning made a connection from earth to dark sky through the torrent. Following it was thunder, booming across the fields and echoing dimly in the ears of the rider. At last, far ahead, the sharp eyes found what they sought. The Gates of Minas Tirith were ahead. The sleek brown steed gave its last burst of speed, then very close to the City tripped. Without a word, rider and horse fell and for a moment all was still. No longer did the steed carry any burden. By the time the messanger had crawled over to the horse, it was too late, but no tears fell. The loss of the horse wounded the one who loved to ride, but the horse was not the rider's own. Now it was with its true master, in the lands where none living had been. Not desiring to join the noble steed, the lone figure left its body, stumbling toward the Gates. The Guard saw the approach, and murmered surprise to each other. The messanger bowed, ignoring the downfall that drenched the grey robes and hood. 'I wish to enter the City.' 'Who are you?' 'I am a messanger of Methnan. I need to speak to the King.' 'Very well. You will be required to lay aside your weapon to enter the Inner City. It will be held for you until your departure -' 'I know.' 'Enter, stranger.' The messanger laughed softly. 'Thank you. But I am not a stranger here.' It was then that the messanger drew back the hood, and exclamations of surprise and welcome were issued, and the gates swung open. Only one man seemed unsurprised, one the messanger did not recognize at first. The guard Pernathos smiled and whispered softly, 'Welcome back, Aeargil.'  
  
She walked slowly through the City, staring at places she had not seen in over a year through the lessened rain. She wanted to hurry - Elbereth, she wanted to run, to sprint, to scream - but she was exhausted. More than anything she wanted to see Eldarion. Once again she wondered what had come over her. What could have possibly possesed her to leave Eldarion, and with such harsh words? Of course he had had to go after Celebros. The boy was like a son to him. Again, too, she wondered if he would want to talk to her. Her actions and words had been unforgivable. She tripped, and leaned heavily against a stone wall. The streets were so close to empty it made her wonder whether something had happened more than she had heard. Finally she came to the enterance to the Inner City. Four Guards, none of which she knew, stood there, still and solemn. She unbuckled her swordbelt and handed it to them, also giving over seven knives. Two from her boots, two from her sleeves, three from her belt. Then she paused, and they nodded to her, opening the doors to the Inner City. 'Where is the King?' she asked one of them. 'The King Elessar, Prince Eldarion, and Lord Celebros are in the Hall. But it has been ordered that none should disturb them.' 'Very well,' Aeargil said with a nod of her head, and the doors closed behind her. She glanced around and headed for the Hall. Two guards stood outside the entrance. Their eyes widened at her, and she let her desperation show through. 'The King has ordered that none should disturb him,' one began uncertainly. 'Let me in,' she pleaded without further ado. 'If you don't, my people may die.' They did not argue, and opened the doors. In the center of the familiar room was a circular table. She recognized all three figures at it fondly, their backs to her. The King started up out of his chair, but when he saw her face he stood still and startled. Eldarion turned. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally his eyes fell on her and widened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Celebros smile and nod greetings to her. Eldarion sat frozen. Slowly, she moved forward, controlling her weak, stumbling legs. The only sound was her footsteps. They echoed through the Hall. After an eternity, she reached the table and stood, staring at Eldarion. There was something about him now. Something had changed in his face. He seemed to have gone through more than he should have. He stared back at her, eyes wide and half-disbelieving. Uncertain. For a long time, there was only silence. Then Eldarion stood so quickly his chair almost fell over, and he embraced her tightly. Tears stung her eyes, and she heard him whisper her name, just once. Then everything fell onto her again, the weight of the past days, and she whimpered softly, trying to stifle the sound without success. Eldarion released her and pushed her back to arm's length, searching her eyes. 'What's wrong? Has something happened?' She wavered, trembling now, and Eldarion gently pushed her back into his chair. Celebros' eyes were misted over and troubled. 'Has Galadon attacked your people? What's happened, Aeargil?' 'Not Galadon,' she choked, knowing how weak she sounded and knowing she was much weaker than that right now. 'It's all right, Aeargil,' the King said gently, coming forward and putting a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'Calm down.' His voice was even more soothing than she had remembered. 'What's happened?' 'Rohan,' she breathed, blinking off exhaustion. 'Rohan... attacked us. Forty dead, nine of them children...our forces are falling back. We don't know why, we don't know. They just... came one afternoon, burned a village...nothing like what I've ever seen before...it was awful...' King Elessar's eyes were full of barely-contained shock and disbelief. 'But we're allies,' he breathed softly. 'Are you sure it was Rohan?' 'They had the Mark...and they were proclaiming that everything they did was "in the name of Rohan" or "in the name of King Eomer"...we need help, Your Majesty. We were taken by surprise. My people haven't gone to war in decades, and our forces are inexperienced. Even Galadon has never openly attacked us. He has taken people, he has sent spies, but nothing like this.'  
  
Eldarion stared out the window silently. Aeargil looked at his back, not wanting to be the first one to break the silence. It had been present for two hours now, since she woke up again. Finally she steeled herself. 'Eldarion,' she began, but he cut her off. 'I really don't understand you, Aeargil.' 'Eldarion, I -' 'He almost died, you know. He almost died more than once. And when he woke up after being comatose for a week, he couldn't see. He was blind.' She was silent, knowing that he wouldn't let her complete an apology. His voice was bitter and hard like she had never heard it before. Her shock and horror increased with Eldarion's words. 'He began to forget what people looked like. They tortured him, Aeargil. They tried to kill him. Nothing can change what he went through. He's never going to be the same. He's withdrawn. He hates being around people. He rarely talks to anyone but my father and I, and then he's quiet.' His voice was cold, bared steel. 'And you wanted me to leave him to them. You wanted me to abandon him to that. His father's nothing to him, and he's nothing to his father. I've always had to be there for him because Malgil didn't exactly pick her husband well. But you wanted me to leave that, and leave him to die. How could you?' Now his voice wavered and broke, and she could see his shoulders shake. 'How could you?' 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'Apologize to him,' Eldarion cried, his voice accusing. He turned to face her, finally, his face tearstained. He didn't bother to dry it. 'Does he know?' she asked, her throat suddenly dry. 'Of course not,' Eldarion laughed mirthlessly. 'Do you think I could have told him, in addition to everything he went through, that you didn't care about him? You would have left him to die?' 'Eldarion,' she whispered. 'You can't forgive me for what I've done, I know. But -' 'Got that right,' Eldarion said, and seemed to sneer now. Aeargil was suddenly frightened. She had never seen him this way before. 'He's as close as a son to me, and what they did tormented him, so it tormented me. And you didn't care. You'd have had me wait in Methnan for the news that he was dead, that he had been found abandoned in the orc-tunnels near Imladris, and by the time they found him it was too late. Or maybe they found him, but he died later from the durthond overdose. He was addicted to it, you know. Or maybe he survived a while, but the fever killed him. Or maybe the place where the burned the back of his neck with magic. Or maybe one of the three broken ribs had punctured his lung, and that killed him. Or maybe the slit on his throat was deeper than they had thought. Or maybe we would wait for news and find none. Maybe he would never be found. Or maybe the orcs took him. Maybe his frostbite killed him. Or he could have stopped breathing. Starvation, too. They didn't like to feed him. He could have given up the will to live. And I would be sitting and waiting there for the news of his death, and my father, and my mother, and Gwalas, and Cundariel and Tasarian, Elladan and Elrohir, and Snaga. And Pernathos and Malgil and Caladin, and everyone. Everyone except you. He could have died, he should have died, there wasn't much hope left in us that he would live! He almost did several times!' His voice had risen sharply; he was shouting now. 'AND YOU DIDN'T CARE!' 'Oh, Elbereth, what have I done?' she whispered, and shuddered, weeping almost silently. 'Eldarion...' 'No, I'll never be able to forgive you,' he hissed. 'Never.' 'I'm not asking for forgiveness,' she whispered. 'I'm not going to try to defend myself - what I did, there is no defense. But I'm not the same now, and neither are you. I'm just asking for a second chance. Please, Eldarion.' He searched her face a moment, then the rage on his face melted into nothingness. He sighed and shook his head slowly. 'I'll think on it, you can be sure,' he said unhappily. 'But it is going to be different, if I can do it. I can't forget what happened. Much as I want to, I see Celebros every day, and he's scarred from it. All over his face, all around his neck, his arms and hands, everything. He's still got a bit of a limp, and every once in a while he'll wince when he thinks no one's looking and touch an old wound. Everyone knows, and gives him their looks of pity, and he hates it.' 'I know,' she whispered. 'I saw. I saw him.' Eldarion looked out the window again. 'I have to go,' he said quietly. 'I'll talk to you later.'  
  
'Father.' Tarmamethnan nodded to his son dully. 'Yes, Lorgan?' 'Nine more wounded, one more dead, Father. They attacked a farm, out on the borders of the forest. Silmarien took them, to see if they can be healed.' 'Can they?' Lorgan hesitated. 'Three of them, father. The men all fought, and one died, but three were virtually unharmed. But the two women and four children have all been burned badly. One of them is expected to die, the second-youngest child.' Again, the hesitation. 'Father, she is five years old.' Bitterness and sadness were mingled in the aging man's face. He nodded slowly. 'We must fight back more than this, my son. It is like cruel boys kicking dogs. We are whimpering and trying to run, but we are no true threat to Rohan.' 'Aeargil will have reached Minas Tirith in Gondor by now.' 'Yes, I suppose there is hope in that, and all my thought is bent on it now. But it is our last hope, Lorgan, my son, our last resort. We must call for all the countryfolk to come to the City.' 'Father, do you think the Gondorians will come?' A twisting smile of both pain and fond memory came to the king's face. 'You do remember Celebros, Lorgan, do you not?' 'Of course I remember him, Father.' The man slumped in the throne and sighed, his twisted smile not fading. 'I would feel safer if I had Aeargil at my side,' he sighed. 'I am still ill at ease when I think of her off so far. I have no doubt that she is safe, if her Eldarion is remotely like Celebros, and the boy did say he looked up to his uncle. Man, now, I suppose. Celebros Telcontar is a boy no longer, but he will be remembered. Bitter I was when Aeargil returned at last crying that he had been captured, along with her other dreadful news.' Finally the king, known as Tarma-methnan, although this was but a title, answered his son's question, and his twisted smile grew at his own words. 'They will come.'  
  
Celebros shook his head, smiling. 'Aeargil, I don't blame anyone for any of that. Anyone here, at least. Everything was happening fast. Awful things happened, and they can't be changed. No one could know what the right decision was. If I had been able to contact Eldarion then, I would have asked him not to come.' Aeargil gaped. 'What? Why, Celebros?' 'It was too dangerous,' Celebros said, still smiling a bit, eyebrows raised as if this was obvious. 'He could have been killed. I already thought I was going to die, so I didn't want anyone else to be put in danger. The thing that Eldir told me that made me happiest was that the first party had turned back. He was going to kill them.' 'But I still feel -' Celebros raised his hand to cut her off, and even as he did that, she saw the scars on his fingers and winced herself. 'Aeargil, please. Eldarion feels much more strongly about this than I do. I'll talk to him, if you want.' 'It might just make him angrier. He was furious with me, Celebros. He was practically screaming. It was frightening.' 'Well, if you want me to speak with him, just give me the word. Has King Elessar talked to you about sending out troops yet?' 'Yes, this morning. He said that they would sent two hundred fifty. He wanted to send more, but I beat him down -that's more than fine. If Rohan is corrupted, you'll need people here.' Celebros nodded and looked at the ground, seeming to consider something. 'What?' she asked. He looked up sheepishly. 'Oh, I was just wondering if my father was going. I guess I'll have to ask.' 'I've never met your father. What's he like? Do you see him often?' 'Elbereth, I haven't talked to him for months. He avoids me, you know. He might as well be dead for all we see each other. Fifteen minutes walk, and not a word in almost a year. I'm really something of a disappointment to him. Eldarion and my mother think I don't know that, but it really doesn't matter to me that much. I've known it for a long time. My mother, now. I talk to her more, but still not much. My parents are very busy, of course. I've met your father, but what about your mother?' Aeargil smiled, looking suddenly far away. 'My mother died when I was twelve,' she said quietly. 'She was always sad, really. Father wanted to make her happy, but he never really got over her death. She died when my brother Eadon was an infant. My father raised him very well.' 'I'm sorry.' 'Oh, I don't really think about it much anymore. There's no changing it, and it was more than thirty years ago. Did you ever meet my brothers and sister?' 'I met Lorgan,' Celebros said, smiling at the memory. 'Well, he's the second-oldest; he's two years younger than me. After him came the twins, Barad and Elleth, but Barad lives in Eryn Lasgalen now. Tarrilas is my only sister, and Eadon is the last. Lorgan and Elleth are in Methnan the most now. Barad hasn't visited in years, although we do occasionally get a message from him, and Tarrilas and Eadon and Lorgan's daughter Silmarien - she's about your age - they're always off on some adventure. Silmarien never seems the adventuring type, but she likes it well enough.' 'They sound nice. I hope I get a chance to meet them all some time.' Aeargil laughed. 'I think you'd get along with them,' she said, and there was a noticable difference in her face - it was as if someone had lit a light in a room that had been dark for too long. 'Silmarien especially - she's never been close to her mother, so Lorgan mostly raised her. She's very quiet, but she's dangerous with a sword in her hands. She can't shoot a bow worth anything. She's distant, though, cold.' Celebros nodded. 'I didn't know Lorgan was married,' he mused. 'Well, her name is Ariel. But they don't live together anymore - they grew apart. It's quite rare for that to happen among us.' Celebros nodded again, not sure how to respond to that. There was a silence, and then Aeargil stood from the chair. 'Well, I'd better go talk to Eldarion. I do wish you'd let me apologize, though.' Celebros looked exasperated. 'All right, if it'll make you feel better. But don't expect a response. I already told you it's not your fault.' 'I'm sorry, Celebros.' Celebros smiled. 'I do hope Eldarion's calmed down - King Elessar hates it when he gets upset.' 'Has he gotten like this before? I've never seen that side of him.' 'Oh, you'd be surprised. He threw a fit once when I got lost in the Outer City - I got caught up in a bad neighborhood. And he exploded at his father once, too. He didn't want me to go out orc-hunting. King Elessar didn't either, really, but I certainly wanted to, and it needed to be done, so he said that I could. Eldarion went mad. Started raging about how I was too young to be 'sent out alone'. It was really quite funny to watch. It was one of the only times I saw the King unable to fit in a word. Generally if he has to say something, the other person will hear it, but -' Celebros laughed and shook his head. 'It's been a while since he's gone off like that, though. I rather thought he might have gotten over it.' Aeargil, smiling, shook her head as well. 'Mind if I come by later?' she asked. 'Not at all.'  
  
'Eldarion,' Aeargil said quietly, and he turned from watching the sun set, melting into the horizon in a fiery blaze of red and yellow and orange. 'Aeargil,' he said, nodding stiffly and turning back to the window. 'Eldarion,' she said again, pain in her eyes. She stepped up to right behind him. 'Please.' He was silent, but he flinched as she spoke his name. 'I can't forget it,' he said finally, without moving. There was a long silence. 'I talked to Celebros,' Aeargil said, voice almost pleading. 'Good,' Eldarion said, silhouetted against the dying embers of the sun. 'I told him everything,' she continued in a rush. 'Every-thing that happened. And then we talked for a while. He's lonely. But you were wrong.' 'What?' Eldarion said, turning around. Aeargil stared soberly into the shadows of his face. 'You said I didn't care, Eldarion,' she said softly. 'That hurt. That hurt.' 'You deserved it,' Eldarion whispered, but he looked miserable. 'I know,' she said simply, and Eldarion turned around and embraced her as he had in the Hall the night before. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, and she felt him tremble. 'I'm sorry.' And she echoed his words back, feeling his hands, warm and strong against her back. She buried her face against his shoulder, and felt a teardrop fall on her neck. She pulled back, and Eldarion, eyes shining with tears, reached out and brushed her cheek gently, as if afraid she might break. She reached up with both hands and took his, pressing it against her face for what seemed like forever. The last shafts of light passed into the west. Aeargil turned to look out the window then at the City. 'It's beautiful,' she said quietly. Eldarion reached out and gently turned her face so she was looking at him again. 'You're beautiful,' he whispered, and drawing closer to her she felt his breath tickle her cheek. She reached out a hand slowly, and without looking he met it with one of his. She looked up at him, and he bent his head so his lips could meet hers. The moon rose slowly, casting pale silver light and shadows of steel.  
  
King Elessar's eyes were troubled at Eldarion's words, but as the Prince of the City, his son was also the Captain-General, and as the son-in-law of the King of Methnan, Eldarion under-standably felt reponsibility. After the discussion, Celebros and Aeargil and Faramir and the other captains left. Eldarion, though, sat at the table, as if deep in thought. The King sat there too, at the head of the long table, and waited. Finally Eldarion spoke. 'You don't want me to go.' Startled, King Elessar didn't reply to this for a moment. At last he spoke the truth. 'As much as I may dislike the idea, the right and the choice are yours. You have been trained how to fight, Eldarion, my son, but you have not truly fought. The Men of Rohan are strong, but perhaps can be convinced to show mercy if it is shown to them. I will do my part from here, and you must do your part, whatever it may be.' Eldarion nodded, then was silent for a moment. 'I need to go. I was harsh and unfair to Aeargil when I spoke with her yesterday at first, and she is going back to her people, if only for a time. Celebros has met her father, and thinks highly of him, and I would like to do the same. If only I could do it in a happier day, then perhaps...' He sighed heavily. 'I understand,' his father said quietly. 'You must lead the forces, then. Go with all speed. You will leave tomorrow, near noon. Eldarion...please, be careful.' Eldarion nodded, and stood and walked from the Hall, but the King remained there, and it seemed that years had fallen onto his face at his son's going.  
  
'You don't have to do this, Eldarion!' 'Yes, I do. Aeargil, please, listen to me. I want to meet your family in any case. I can't just let you go there again, and stay behind. I want to help, Aeargil, I don't want to stand idle. And...I don't want you to go without me again.' 'Eldarion, you could be killed! I couldn't live if you were hurt or worse because you didn't want to leave me!' 'Aeargil, don't do this to me. I already told Father I would lead the troops. There might not even be any need for us. By the time we reach Methnan, Eomer might have called off the attacks - my father -' 'Please, don't. The King will understand - the last thing my father intended was to make you feel obliged to come, to make you come and risk death -' 'Aeargil, I'll be fine! Nothing will happen to me - I can fight, I can shoot a bow...I'll be fine.' Tears ran down Aeargil's face, and Eldarion's was filled with pain and anguish. He came over to sit next to her. 'Please, Aeargil, believe me.' He raised his hand and wiped tears from her face, but more spilled from her eyes. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he held her tightly.  
  
'I just can't believe he decided to do it without asking me first.' Celebros shook his head. 'But you have to see what he means. He's like that. He knew what your reaction would be.' 'Celebros! Do you mean you agree with him?' Celebros held up his hands in surrender. 'I just meant I see where he's coming from. He wants do whatever he can.' 'But he could fight here. If Rohan attacks here -' 'Rohan won't attack us,' Celebros said quietly. 'No matter how much Eomer has been corrupted, he isn't stupid. Rohan's forces aren't defenseless, but if I may say so, our army has always been more experienced.' 'I just wish I could stop him. I don't want him to fight. If something happens to him...' 'I know,' Celebros sighed. 'He practically raised me. I couldn't stand it if he got hurt any more than you could. But he won't.' 'I wish I was as sure as you are. I just keep imagining awful things...' 'Aeargil,' Celebros said gently, 'he needs to do this. It's what he wants. He doesn't want to stand by and do nothing while people die, while his soldiers and your people die. He couldn't do that. It would destroy him. If I were him, I would do the same. He's the Captain-General of the City. As it is, actually,' he said as an afterthought, sighing and flushing a bit as he said it, 'I asked the King if I could go to fight, too, and he forbade me.' 'Celebros!' 'I don't want to do nothing either,' Celebros said hotly. 'My father may be hiding again, but I'm not like him.' 'No one said you were like your father,' Aeargil said quietly. 'But you're needed here.' 'For what?' Celebros asked bitterly. 'What do they need me for here?' Aeargil looked at the ground, searching for the right words. At last she said, 'Celebros, you know more than anyone the treachery of the world. If the King is to make negotiations with Rohan, he will need you here. And besides,' she said softly, and looked suddenly sober and seemed to fight emotion off her face, 'it wouldn't be a good idea for both you and Eldarion to go into battle.' Celebros looked subdued. 'Aeargil, please, don't make him hurt about this any worse than he already hurts.' Then he would say no more.  
  
Eldarion didn't smile at his parting with Celebros. It was a sober one, and beneath them in the City, over two hundred men were saying goodbye to their families. Too many of them would never see the City again. 'Be careful, will you?' Celebros asked quietly. 'Don't let anything happen to yourself.' 'I'll be fine, Celebros,' Eldarion assured him. Then more softly, 'I promise.' 'That's a significant promise,' Celebros muttered. 'I won't forget it.' 'You won't have reason to remember it. Listen, Celebros. Keep an eye out, all right? It's not safe anymore.' 'When has it been safe?' Celebros demanded. 'The orcs in the Grey Wood getting closer and closer, and now the bandits from Elbereth knows where all over the Fields. They killed a guard last night.' 'I hadn't heard,' Eldarion said. 'But I guess I don't have to remind you to be careful. You always are.' 'You'll like Aeargil's family,' Celebros assured him. 'Lorgan especially, I think.' Eldarion nodded. 'Well, I have to go,' he sighed, looking out the window. Celebros nodded and closed his eyes. Eldarion set a hand on his shoulder. 'I'll be back before you know it,' he promised.  
  
Weeks had passed for the men of the City. A few hours, perhaps, from Minas Methith, a rider approached, bearing a white flag with a strange blue symbol. Aeargil peered at it, then calmed the men. 'It's ours!' she cried out. The rider slowed, holding the flag high, and the man by Eldarion's side waved the Gondorian sign back. Eldarion and Aeargil both dismounted and approached, and the other man dismounted too, setting his flag in the ground on its pole. Aeargil gasped as they came closer, eyes sparkling. 'Lorgan!' she cried, and sprinted the last few steps to embrace her brother. 'Aeargil,' Lorgan said quietly, eyes closed. 'You have no idea how worried we've been -' 'You were worried? We weren't even fighting -' 'But the men of Rohan are everywhere now -' 'You were fighting them directly, though -' Lorgan laughed, and they pulled apart. Aeargil was smiling widely. 'Lorgan, this is Eldarion. Eldarion, my brother Lorgan,' she said, coming back to where Eldarion stood, hanging behind a bit, and pulling him forward by the hand. Lorgan smiled. 'I've heard a great deal about you,' he said quietly. 'How are your people in the south? How is Celebros?' 'As good as can be expected,' Eldarion answered, nodding and shaking his brother-in-law's hand. 'How are your people faring here?' Lorgan lifted the flag from the ground, whistling to his horse and motioning Eldarion and Aeargil back the the soldiers. 'Father's called everyone inside the City except for the fighters. There's been a lull in the fighting. They're planning a larger-scale attack, that is no secret. We're frightened. We don't know exactly how many of them there are. They've been holding back. They're spread all over for miles. Our spies tell us some went into Rildor a bit and didn't come out. The evil has not left there entirely, and perhaps has spread all the way to Rohan. Perhaps even into Gondor, meaning no offense, Prince Eldarion.' 'Bandits, murderers, cover the Fields,' Eldarion agreed soberly. 'I'm afraid that treachery is widespread, perhaps even among my own men.' He looked Lorgan straight in the eye. 'I can't fully trust almost any of them. A select few - ten perhaps, out of two hundred fifty.' Lorgan nodded. 'Some of ours have already turned,' he said quietly. 'Brothers on opposite sides, fighting each other - children with fathers on Rohan's side and mothers on Methnan's - parents with children opposing them. Aeargil, I have to tell you something. Dinalben killed his wife and sons a week ago,' Aeargil gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes filling with tears. 'He killed Chila and the children?' she breathed. Lorgan, looking miserable, nodded. Aeargil started to cry quietly. Eldarion wrapped his arms around her gently, closing his eyes, and she rested her head against his chest. 'Chila and I were children together - I've known her since before Mother died - Mother and her parents were close friends -and I taught the oldest boys how to read and write Sindarin...' Aeargil's breath was coming in short gasps between sobs. 'How could he? That filthy turncoat - that bastard!' 'Shhh...' Eldarion whispered in her ear, and Aeargil cried even harder, her small form shaking against Eldarion's larger one.  
  
The news came to Celebros in the afternoon, when he was sitting in his chair by the window and reading. At first, when the messanger came to his door, his mind leapt to Eldarion. But the messanger's news was from a different direction. 'Lord Celebros?' He had gotten used to the 'lord' title. No one seemed to know its origin, but it had become standard, and nothing he said could get rid of it. 'Yes?' He wanted to scream out. He was certain he knew what was coming, and was thus hit by the news harder than it might otherwise have. 'Your father, as you know, was on guard outside the City.' Startled, he nodded. Was? Caladin was supposed to be on guard until tomorrow morning. 'Yes.' 'It is believed he was attacked by bandits of Rohan. He was on the border between our lands. He is in the Houses of Healing, and he is not expected to live. Your mother the Princess Malgil is already there, as is the King Elessar.' Shocked, Celebros could only nod at the man. He stood for a moment before the door, mind racing, then put out his hand and fumbled for the doorknob. Opening it, he sprinted blindly through the hallways until he found himself before the doors of the Houses of Healing. He stood there a moment and took several steadying breaths, then opened the door. Immediately the scent of athelas leapt out at him, and his breath instantly became easier. He walked forward as if in a trance into the other room. His mother and the King were both kneeling beside a bed, and lying on the bed, half-hidden from view, was his father. Blood was caked onto the left side of his face. There was a deep wound on the side of his head. His eyes were closed. His breath rose and fell unsteadily, and it did not seem that he was asleep. Deaf to his mother's cries and his grandfather's quiet words, Celebros walked slowly toward the bed. His mother looked up, eyes red from sobbing, and hurried over to him, throwing her arms around him. He stood stiffly, numbly, looking at his father. He saw out of the corner of his eye King Elessar's dark, anxious look. Malgil pulled back, letting Celebros walk forward rigidly. This was impossible, inconceivable. This was... His father opened his eyes just as Celebros reached the bed and stood staring. The King, kneeling beside him, took an already bloodsoaked cloth and reached up to continue cleaning the wound, but with startling strength Caladin reached up and grabbed his father-in-law's wrist. 'No,' he forced, his voice barely audible. The King stared into Caladin's eyes, and slowly lowered his hand. Celebros' mother let out a wail of despair. 'Celebros,' his father whispered. 'My son. I am sorry. I always...' His voice faded, and Celebros found himself again. He shook his head furiously. 'It's all right, Father. Everything's...no...' 'It's not all right,' Caladin grated, and coughed, spattering blood on the white bedsheets. 'I never realized how terribly I - I always treated you. Eldarion's been better at caring about you. But when those men on horses came pounding up...' As he shuddered, a tear ran down Celebros' cheek. 'I thought about you. And I realized then that I hadn't seen you in almost a year, even though we only live about a fifteen-minute walk apart...and I never came after those times you were hurt to see if you were all right...and I wanted to tell you I'm sorry.' He looked at the King, eyes dimming, and whispered, 'Take...care of them...for me...and tell Eldarion...tell him thank you.' Then he looked at Celebros' face and smiled, a true smile, a proud smile, and closed his eyes, and did not open them again. Silent tears crept down Celebros' face. He and the King both stared at the body of Caladin, and the only sound for a moment was the sobbing of Malgil. The King stood then and walked to his daughter. She buried her face against his shirt, and let him lead her from the room, both understanding through greif Celebros' need to be alone with his father.  
  
Dark emptiness lay over the City. Pricks of light that had lay scattered over Minas Tirith at nightfall now had been extinguished. No people walked the streets below. Celebros figited before the open window, staring into the dark, fighting the insane impulse. But finally it overcame him, and he went to the table, pulling on the black cloak that lay there and pulling the hood over his face. He walked out of his rooms into the dimly lighted hallway and then to the armory. He emerged almost twenty minutes later. He carried in his arms a sword, two knives, and thick studded leather armor. Silent as shadows, he slipped into the stables, finding the best horse there, one named Windscream. Taking also a saddle, he led the steed to an old, unused stable with a haystack in the corner. He covered his saddle and blades and armor there, and tied Windscream. Then he returned to his rooms, and slept.  
  
Fog blanketed the Inner City before dawn, but there was only one to see it. Atop the Tower of Ecthelion, Snaga stood staring out at the morning. The horizon was first covered by a thread of grey. Slowly pink took over, and then a cloud of splendor hung over the mountains as the sun rose. The fog burned slowly away, and Minas Tirith began to awake. Snaga lowered his gaze slowly as the sun threw out its light. No matter the years he had spent among Men, no matter the time he had spent seperating himself from Orcs, he was one still, and the sunlight burned his eyes. He turned from the sight to find he was not alone after all. As the sun had risen, a tall man had come behind him in silence and watched. Recognizing each other, they nodded their greetings. Faramir smiled. 'Hello,' he said quietly, looking past Snaga at the sun before bringing his gaze back to the small orc. 'Good morning,' Snaga replied. 'It's quite beautiful, isn't it? It has its own slow magnificence.' 'Yes, it does,' Snaga agreed, looking back over his shoulder for a moment. No matter how it stabbed at him, it was a breath-taking sight. 'Still, I would prefer watching the full moon rise over Ithilien,' Faramir sighed, looking suddenly wistful. 'Have you seen it?' 'No,' the orc said slowly. 'I have been to Ithilien only once, and breifly.' 'Then you have missed the flower of all nightfalls,' Faramir told him, eyes smiling. 'It is a sight to see indeed.' 'In that case, I hope that I shall one day get the chance to see it.' There was a long silence, and then Faramir looked at Snaga questioningly. 'What is worrying you, my friend?' he asked quietly. 'Something grave is laying on your mind heavily.' 'I am worried about Celebros,' Snaga said, lowering his eyes. 'The death of his father has been very hard on him. The two of them spoke to each other very rarely, but Caladin apologized in his last moments.' Faramir sighed. 'Yes, I agree. I weigh it among my concerns as well.' Snaga sighed heavily and added, 'And I am also worried about Eldarion.' Now Faramir echoed the sigh. 'This, too, is weighing on Celebros. He is afraid he will lose Eldarion as well. Elbereth protect the Prince! If he is injured, then Celebros' wrath will be terrible. He will strike out quickly and mercilessly. For everyone's sake, I hope Eldarion is all right.'  
  
Eldarion glanced over the wall, then ducked as three arrows narrowly missed his head. 'Too many,' he gasped to the other First Troopers, 'move to the left. Slowly! We have to get to the Hall!' Carefully stringing his bow, he moved a few feet to the left, then stopped. The others followed suit, but Eldarion shook his head. 'Keep going; I'll catch up.' They continued along, and he took a deep breath, drew back the bowstring, and stood up, releasing the arrow. An arrow flew past him in retaliation, nicking his cheek. He flung himself flat onto the narrow catwalk. A trickle of blood came from the small cut and ran down his face, dripping to the wood below him. Crouched, he scrambled to the left to meet the others, who had moved with remarkable speed. Bringing another arrow to his bow, he motioned for the others to stop. They, too, strung their bows. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the men; his men, and saw the one right next to him smile grimly. Eldarion gave the signal. As one, they rose quickly and fired. He heard cries, and the returning swoosh of a release. The man next to him fell back. His troop ducked back. Eldarion knelt by the fallen man. 'He's still alive,' the prince muttered to the other men. One crawled over. The man on the ground shuddered and opened his eyes, staring in disbelief at the shaft penetrating his chest. He looked then at Eldarion, pain misting his wide eyes. 'My wife,' he gasped, pain and anguish painting his words as blood bubbled out of his mouth, 'my children. Can you tell them -' Convulsing, he clutched Eldarion's arm. 'I'm going to die, aren't I?' he whspered, and Eldarion had no choice but to nod; his throat restricted. 'Please, my lord, tell Elen what happened, tell her I love her and the children.' His hand trembled, and he sighed and move no more. 'He's dead,' Eldarion said, letting out his breath slowly, and motioned for the other men to move on, for they had stopped just ahead. The man closest to Eldarion did not move, although he was the only one. 'What about you, sir?' he whispered fiercely, seeing Eldarion remaining in one place. 'You cannot stay here. We have to reach the main halls!' 'So go,' Eldarion snarled, unable to feel charitable towards the man for caring. 'With all due respect, no sir,' the soldier said stiffly. 'I will not leave. You have a reason for staying. If you have a plan, then I can help. If you are considering some mad plan of sacrifice, then I will do everything in my power possible to stop you. It is my duty, Prince Eldarion of Gondor.' Eldarion sighed as if relieved of some burden and nodded. He looked once at the almost-black stormclouds. It may have been morning, but the night seemed to be approaching before it should have. 'Right. What is your name?' 'Aros.' 'All right. Aros, my plan is to stop the center man, the commander, and shoot him bad enough to injure him severely but not kill him. They'll try to get him to safety. It'll distract them a while. If we killed him, they'd ignore it; there'd be nothing they could do. I hope to be able to get a few shots in in the turmoil.' Aros nodded. 'Sound plan. I'll back you up. Just tell me where to shoot, and I'll shoot.'  
  
Celebros sat stiffly in the chair. He stared at his hands on the table in silence as the King spoke. Finally he broke in. 'His sword,' he said quietly. 'He didn't have his sword. Where is it?' He forced himself to look up at King Elessar. Even though he had rarely spoken to his father, there was one thing he did know. His father's sword was his prize. It had been passed down, father to son, for generations. It had been made centuries ago, and was the most intricate blade that Celebros had ever seen. On either side of the blade, near the hilt, was carved a sun and a Quenya inscription. Celebros had been taught as a young boy what it meant, but had not seen it for years. It was the first Quenya he had every learned. Now he knew a good deal, but this stood out, this inscription. Peace lies not with the sword, but with the tongue. The King looked at him for a moment. Then at last he answered. 'They took it,' he said softly. 'The men who attacked him took his blade when he was down.' Celebros gritted his teeth, holding in the furious scream he longed to release. 'Celebros,' the King began, but Celebros shook his head and stood. 'No,' he said, and then more firmly, 'No, leave me alone. Leave me alone.' He turned on his heel and strode out into the chill of the morning.  
  
'And it isn't just that he'll be angry, either,' Snaga said softly. 'He will want to avenge his father.' 'I agree,' Faramir said, staring at the ground. 'Meaning...' 'He'll leave the City,' Snaga finished firmly. 'He is angry.' 'He has a right for anger,' Faramir said slowly. 'Whoever those men were, they killed first and asked later. But if he leaves the City, he is in as much danger as Eldarion.'  
  
It was a moment before Eldarion made a move. Aros wondered if he was afraid. It was hard to tell; the Prince's face was hard and grim. Determined. Sad. Then he nodded quickly and stood. Aros drew back an arrow. 'There!' Eldarion shouted, pointing. Aros released, and the arrow flew faithfully. Pulling another to his string, he fired. Hoarse yells and cries filled his ears. Another arrow. Another. Another. He had fired off six arrows in quick succession when there was a clunk next to him, and he realized Eldarion was down. With a cry, he dropped behind the shelter of the low catwalk walls. The Prince was flat on his back. A thin-shafted black arrow protruded from his chest near his right shoulder. 'No!' Aros yelled desperately, bending over Eldarion. His eyes were open, fixed unafraid on Aros' face, but in great pain. The front of his shirt was already stained with a sick red. Breathing fast, Aros glanced down the narrow catwalk to the left. There was no one there. To the right was the soldier's body, a few paces away. But no one else. Eldarion's pained dark eyes flickered and closed. 'No. No. No,' Aros moaned. 'No, no, no, no, no! No!' Carefully he touched Eldarion sodden chest and felt the shallow breaths make it rise and fall. He sighed heavily, still breathing fast. Removing his hand, he braced himself against the floor, but it fell into a small pooling something, sticky and warm...blood. Eldarion's blood. He lifted the prince's limp head and tried to pull him along the floor, but did not get far. Eldarion was too large, and was dead weight, and already he was tired. Again he tried unsuccessfully. It was useless. 'Help,' he called out weakly, hoping against hope that someone in the main hall would hear. The entrance was not far...the screams and yells of soldiers echoed off the walls. 'Help us, someone. Help!' His voice rose stronger in urgency and fear, and he saw movement to the left. Someone had exited the halls and was darting, crouched silently, toward them. 'Prince Eldarion?' a voice gasped, and moaned and Aros' frantic nod. 'How badly is he hurt, Aros?' It was Prince Lorgan, Aeargil's brother. 'Badly. He was shot, I need help with him. We need to get him to Tarmamethnan, now.' 'My father is in the halls with Aeargil. We should be able to get him there.' 'We have to hurry. He isn't going to last too long. The arrow -' 'All right.'  
  
I hope Eldarion's all right, Celebros thought wildly to himself as he saddled the horse. I hope Eldarion's all right. Why are you doing this? What do you hope to achieve? The half of him asking this was crushed as Celebros started to put on the armor. I hope to avenge my father and get my sword! You're going to kill them. You're going to kill someone. They killed him! They killed my father! He buckled the swordbelt and pulled on the black cloak, fastening it with the silver brooch. It was a very intricate fastening. Eldarion had given it to him. It was shaped like a tree, branches spread. He pulled up the hood, covering his face. So you want to right their murdering by becoming one of them? I'm not a murderer! I want to avenge him! I want my sword! He patted Windscream's neck and leapt into the saddle.  
  
The morning was slowly fading. Snaga and Faramir were still anxiously discussing the problems in the courtyard. 'Could he really do that, Snaga? You know him better than I do. Could he really kill them?' 'He can kill, if he feels it necessary,' Snaga said grimly. 'Has he killed Men before?' Snaga shook his head. 'No. But his anger has been held at bay for so long. Anger at Galadon for the death of Rilhir and the suffering of his friends. Anger at the Galadil for taking him, because when they hurt him, they hurt Eldarion and the rest of those he cares about. Now anger at the men who killed his father. But he rarely shows anger, and when he does, it is not for those who caused him suffering, it is the suffering of others he cares about.' 'But King Elessar would not give him permission to do such a thing.' Snaga shook his head. 'No, the King would never give him permission, so he will leave without it.'  
  
Tarmamethnan looked gravely at Eldarion. The prince, his son-in-law, was lying on a cot in the dimly lit hall, the white sheet beneath him stained scarlet. Aeargil stood anxiously behind her father, staring at Eldarion's face as Tarmamethnan removed the arrow and quickly bound the wound. The hall was silent except for yells and cries that indistinctly soaked through the walls. Aros sat on the floor against the wall by the bed, his head drooped. The man had stumbled in exhausted, and collapsed when Eldarion had been laid on the cot. Tarmamethnan bent down onto one knee beside Eldarion, looking intently into his face. Then without a word, he touched the prince's forehead, started a bit, and stood. 'Father?' Aeargil whispered. Her voice trembled. The King turned to her, his eyes sad. 'Father?' she whispered again, more frightened. 'What is it?' He looked at her miserably and shook his head. 'I cannot do anything for him,' he sighed. 'It may heal naturally, of course, if it was not poisoned, but I do not know. I am sorry, Aeargil.' Aeargil gazed desperately into her father's deep eyes, then turned her gaze to Eldarion. Stepping up next to his bed, her shoulders shaking, she stared into his pale, unmoving face. Then her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, clasping his cold hand, and bowed her head over it, quietly sobbing. Tarmamethnan stared sadly at his daughter. A messanger ducked in and came up to him, looking forlornly around. 'Lord, we've lost the gates,' he said quietly, bowing. Aeargil's shoulders shook harder, and Tarmamethnan sighed. Her father motioned the messanger and the aides to follow him, and they left in silence. Now the only other one in the room was the sleeping Aros. Aeargil drew her silver sleeve across her eyes and took a scrap of cloth from the foot of the bed, wiping blood gently from Eldarion's still face. She stared longingly at it, frozen into an expression of grim surprise. She kissed him gently. A minute later, a group of eight men came in the same door Eldarion, Lorgan, and Aros had. The Third Troop, bloodstained, exhausted, and filthy, paused a moment. There had been twelve in each troop when they set out three hours before. One of them cradled a mangled arm. That one looked up first, staring numbly at Aeargil. His gaze shifted wearily to Eldarion. Recognition and shock dawned in his grimy face. 'Prince Eldarion!' he gasped, and scrambled towards them like a wounded dog. The other seven, too, hurried over behind the first, all talking loudly. One of them had a nasty slash across his face. Another, with a fractured leg, was supported by a man with an arrow in his left arm. They all needed to be treated immediately. 'He was shot,' Aeargil explained, her voice choked. 'You need to be treated. Can one of you get the King from the next hall?' The man with the slashed face moved away to do this, and several others helped the badly wounded into cots. Tarmamethnan, followed by the slashed man and three aides, strode in hurridly. Aeargil shot Eldarion another look, then moved to help her father. 'The Third Troop, Your Highness,' the man with the ruined arm said, nodding his head in a half-bow. 'Child,' Aeargil's father said softly, 'please wake Aros. I need some help with a few of these.' Aeargil only had to shake Aros' shoulder. He started to his feet and looked wildly around, his eyes resting on Eldarion and becoming grimmer. 'How is he?' he asked. 'Unless he heals naturally, he...' she wavered, but took a shuddering breath and continued. 'The Third Troop - Father needs your help. Only eight left, and all of them injured.' Aros flinched, and stared at her, eyes wild. 'Is Elos here?' 'Elos?' 'My brother. He was going to transfer to Third.' His voice was frantic and hoarse. Aeargil watched him search through the men quickly. Then, 'He's not.' It sounded shocked and disbelieving. 'He probably didn't transfer in time,' Aeargil suggested, hoping it was the truth. 'Probably,' Aros muttered under his breath. 'All right. Yes. Your father needs my help?' Aeargil, I'll be fine! Nothing will happen to me - 'Yes,' Aeargil said, now distracted. 'Yes. We all need help.'  
  
His horse was steady now. He knew where his father had been posted, so he would begin his search there. He only hoped, deep inside his cloud of fury, that he knew what he was doing.  
  
'Then we need to get to King Elessar. We need to tell him what we suspect - we need to stop Celebros.' Faramir nodded. 'I agree. But it may be that Celebros cannot be stopped. And what if we are wrong?' 'I saw him yesterday, Faramir. I do not think we are wrong.' The two of them went immediately to the Hall, and found there the King Elessar. It only took one look at his blazing yet despairing eyes to tell them what they needed to know. His words confirmed their fears. 'Faramir. Snaga. Celebros is gone.'  
  
Dried blood stained the grass, and Celebros felt a wave of fury. No one else had been positioned in the spot where his father had been attacked. Leading away from the spot, away from the border, and into Rohan, were the tracks of five horses. He leapt onto the back of the uneasy Windscream and followed the tracks.  
  
'If only we had come earlier -' 'It wouldn't have done any good. He left this morning, right after he left here, we think. He stole a horse yesterday and took a sword and armor. He left here angry. I tried to talk to him, but he told me to leave him alone, and left. He must be stopped.'  
  
Hours and hours of misery and fury and uncertainty passed with no event. He lost the tracks twice, and had to backtrack. He was forced to stop and rest after sliding out of the saddle, and exhaustion took over everything else. Blackness slid over his vision, and he sank into a restless sleep.  
  
Eldarion's first sense was nothingness. Dark, silence, numbness. His second was heat. Not the cold that he last remembered, nor the sharp, searing pain... Slowly he awoke. Motionless, he lay in still darkness and quiet. He didn't remember...the last thing he remembered was... what? First Troop. A man had been shot, and he had ordered them back. One - Aros, a half-elf and not a Gondorian, had stayed with him. They had stood up and shot and... And... There was nothing more. But beyond a hazy veil of darkness, he saw something, felt something, remembered... Pain. He had been hurt. He slowly opened his eyes, and the dark, silent world was annihilated. Above him was a high, slanted ceiling. Feeling seemed to be slowly returning, and pain near his shoulder. A soft voice was singing in Sindarin words he didn't understand and didn't try to understand. He flexed his hand and turned his head. Aeargil sat against the side of the bed. Now her soft song stopped, and her shoulders shook with soft, heartbroken sobs. 'Aeargil?' he said, his voice coming out rough and unsteady and pitifully quiet. She whirled around, and seeing his eyes open let out a soft cry, touching his cheek and wiping tears from her face. She could not, however, wipe the look of pain and worry and anxiousness from it, from her beautiful eyes. She stroked his dark hair gently, running her fingers through it. Eldarion lifted a weak hand and touched the bandages bound around his chest. 'What...happened?' he groaned weakly. 'You were shot,' Aeargil whispered, her eyes darkening and another tear running down her cheek. 'Badly. You've been unconcious for three days. We've been so worried that you...' Her voice broke. 'Oh, Eldarion...' He was silent a moment. Then, 'Three days?' he whispered at last. 'Three days? What happened?' 'They pulled back,' Aeargil said quietly. 'Into the woods... they had too many injured. We sent scouts out everywhere, and none of them found anything. They're on their way back to Rohan. They were outnumbered. But they killed...' 'How many?' Eldarion forced out. 'My father lost forty-four, almost a sixth of our force. The City lost fifty-three. Almost all the rest were injured. They burned the west part of the catwalk. Then they retreated when we sent everyone able out as a last defense - over three hundred to their two hundred, and we were better armored. And then they vanished.' Eldarion didn't speak for a long time. Then, 'Ninety-seven dead?' he breathed. He grimaced and closed his eyes. 'We almost lost you too,' Aeargil whispered. Eldarion nodded and winced. Aeargil touched his hand, still resting on the bandages, and closed her eyes, starting to cry again. 'You've still got an awful fever,' she said quietly, and touched his forehead with a cool hand. 'And the arrow fractured two of your ribs.' Eldarion did not open his eyes, but sighed. Aeargil took a damp cloth and lay it on his forehead. For the moment, the Prince of Minas Tirith slipped back into oblivion. The pain was consumed, and for the moment he lost himself in the black nothingness of dream sleep.  
  
Darkness swirled around him, a torturous black cloud, and the whisperings of the wind spoke in his ear. 'Why?' he asked aloud, although his voice did not disturb or slow the endless windsong. Screams of the dead and screams of the living, softness of death and hardness of dying, begging for death and slipping from life - What? 'Where am I?' 'You're where you are, of course, my boy,' a voice said, a familiar voice, two familiar voices blended into one. Eldarion. Caladin. He turned around to find the source of the voice, and screamed. He woke with a start, unable to remember what it was that had made him scream.  
  
'But where would you have gone, if you were him?' 'I do not know. I have never known that kind of feeling, that connection between father and son.' 'But Celebros and Caladin's connection was different. Caladin didn't understand his son, and Celebros didn't have any desire to see his father if his father didn't want to see him. Their connection was barely existant, until the end.' 'How did your father die, Faramir?' Faramir was silent for a moment, and Snaga shook his head. 'Never mind. I apologize.' 'No. No, you have a right to know.' 'I do not wish to cause you pain.' 'It's fine, Snaga. My father was plagued with troubles no man should have to go through. The death of his eldest son and dearest, Boromir, was not the first. My mother died young, and he was saddened by her passing. It was very hard on him. The War of the Ring took its toll on his heart. He was bitter with anguish and loss. He...was more like Boromir, and I was very different from them both. My father wanted me to be more like my brother, and although I loved and respected my brother, I could not compare to him. After Boromir's death, he grew impatient with me, and his final words to me were resentful. I was near death when I returned from battle, and my dreams then were constant and dark. He wished for us to die together, thinking that my death would be soon and no longer wishing to live himself. I was taken from him and revived, but he burned himself to his death, and would have burned me with him. Barely I was brough back from the edge of death, and in my healing learned of his deeds, and met Eowyn.'  
  
Much as he tried, tired as he was, Celebros could not sleep again. He lay flat on his back, imagining or remembering terrible things. What had that dream meant? Eldarion and his father had somehow been the same person. Was Eldarion dead? It would take a few days at least for the news to get to the City, even if it would come by a messanger bird. Or was the dream just mocking his fears? Indeed, there were two things he cared about now. He wanted Eldarion to be all right, and he wanted to get his sword, whether he died doing it or not. Now, more than ever, he wished his father was alive.  
  
Aeargil didn't look up from Eldarion's peaceful face as her father entered the room. She did not need to feel his questioning gaze on her back to decipher what he wanted to know. 'He woke up,' she said quietly. 'But he's so weak he can hardly move. And his fever has gone up.' 'But he did wake up,' Tarmamethnan said gently. 'For now, weakness must be expected.' Aros ducked in from the catwalk. He darted immediately over to Eldarion, and Aeargil let her father tell him what she had told. The half-elf's eyes met Aeargil's and she shared the emotion in them - misery and worry and weariness. Then he turned to the King. 'All the men of the City wish to wait to return home until Prince Eldarion is well.' 'All of them?' Aeargil asked, startled. 'These men are valiant,' her father said, smiling a bit from some memory of pride and bravery. 'They would follow the Prince to the Morgoth's gates, were he going there himself. I am not sure which I would consider more loyal - those who would turn back if he ordered them, or those that would follow him whether he forbade them or not. Then have them led back to Minas Methith.' 'Thank you,' Aeargil added quietly to him. 'For staying with him when he told you to go.' Aros looked surprised, and flushed. 'It is our duty, and none would think of doing otherwise.' 'All the men fought well, but the rest obeyed him, and had you done so as well...' Her voice faded, and in the sudden uncomfortable silence she looked back to the still face of Eldarion. Aros moved toward the door, but hesitated, and stopped, sinking into a chair. Tarmamethnan knelt by his son-in-law and unwrapped the linen slowly. The wound was not closed yet, and the area around it was swollen. A sick yellow surrounded the area. Poison.  
  
Faramir looked at the ground. 'I can't tell,' he said quietly without looking up. 'The prints aren't very clear.' 'Where else would he go?' Faramir shook his head, looking up from the dirt. 'We can't be sure, Snaga. Anger. Pain. Death. There are too many things going through his mind, too many memories haunting him to make him predictable.' Snaga's eyes narrowed, shaking his head and thinking hard. 'He wouldn't consider us following him,' he said softly. He glanced at Faramir. 'I think he came here, and followed the prints. He wants to be quick and certain.' Faramir leapt back onto his horse. 'Hurry. I don't know if he'll wait when he finds them.'  
  
The prints were clearer now. Celebros found several items at one point that made his heart contract. A half-buried silver necklace, obviouly belonging to a noblewoman, was only one of the signs that the bandits had killed again. Bloody handprints in the grass, and a small wreath of white flowers, still fresh. He wondered who this woman had left behind her. Children? A husband? Brothers or sisters? Parents? Hate boiled inside of him, coursing through his veins. A small voice inside of him whispered that he was doing the wrong thing. A louder voice said that he was right. He allowed himself two hours of rest that night. Building a small fire, Celebros searched until he found a small flower of the same kind that had lay near the bloody handprints. He twirled it in his fingers. What kind of place was this? Why did things like this happen? He stared at the flower a moment. Then he sat up and threw it into the fire. It withered and crumbled. A curling wisp of black smoke danced toward the starry sky. Celebros let himself fall back to the hard ground and stared at the heavens.  
  
Snaga looked at the shadowed form of Faramir. His eyes were very tired. Shadows from the firelight flickered and danced across his lined face. 'We're not going to catch up with him, are we?' Snaga asked faintly. Faramir glanced up from the flames and stared instead at Snaga for a moment in silence. Then he sighed very heavily and shook his head. 'No, we're not. Not before he catches up with them.' Snaga bowed his head. 'It was too much for him,' he said at last. 'It was a trial. He...what will happen to him, Faramir?' The Steward, staring at the fire again, did not answer.  
  
In the dream, he was watching terrible things happen, and he was doing nothing. He woke silently, cold sweat on his forehead, shaking. What could this mean? What was it? Celebros. Eldarion. His grandson, his son. This was too much, and not only for him. For all of them. They were failing. He turned his head to look at Arwen, lying next to him, sleeping peacefully. The sun had not yet risen. It was early, too early. He needed sleep. But he could not dream. Not again. Not that dream. 'Eldarion,' he whispered, sitting up slowly, trying to still his body. Still, tremors ran through him, uncontrolled, unchecked. 'Eldarion.' Something is wrong, he thought to himself. My son...my son is hurt. What am I doing? What am I doing here? He had seen the faces of the parents who had lost children. He had seen it on his own son. No parent should live after the death of their child, he remembered Eldarion saying dimly. It was a different sort of pain, losing a child, than losing a parent. Losing a parent was expected. But a child...one whose blood is your blood, one who you watched through life...no. He had never felt it, never known it. He had expected to know it. He had expected to die long before the death of one of his blood, one of his line. Many times, too many times. Celebros ...more than once he had felt blind panic and horror and despair. 'Their first assessment was that the boy was dead.' That still tore at his son, and would forever, he knew. For a brief, horrible moment, he had thought Celebros was dead. In a sense, Celebros had been raised by his uncle. Although not wanting to think it, he had wondered whether it might have been better if Caladin had never apologized to his son. That moment, a connection had sprung between them, something that had not been there before, and Celebros had known what it was like to have a father, and to lose him the moment he gained him. Eldarion. His thoughts had been ever on his son in these days, these awful days. Elessar hoped that he had made the right choices. He hadn't been like Caladin, had he? He remembered what Eldarion had told him of Caladin's first reaction to Celebros. He hadn't cared. He also remembered the day Eldarion had been born, and the sense of joy he had felt in that moment. He had not been like Caladin. Yet still...that lingering doubt. 'Eldarion.'  
  
Aeargil hated herself for thinking it, but her thoughts kept straying back to the argument Eldarion and she had had back in the City. If only she had insisted...if only he had listened... if only he hadn't been so noble...But that was who he was, really. Was. That's who he is, she thought fiercely. He'll be all right. He promised. And Eldarion always keeps his promises.  
  
'Be careful, will you? Don't let anything happen to yourself.' 'I'll be fine, Celebros. I promise.' 'That's a significant promise. I won't forget it.' 'You won't have reason to remember it. Listen, Celebros. Keep an eye out, all right? It's not safe anymore.' 'When has it been safe? The orcs in the Grey Wood getting closer and closer, and now the bandits from Elbereth knows where all over the Fields. They killed a guard last night.' 'I hadn't heard. But I guess I don't have to remind you to be careful. You always are.' 'You'll like Aeargil's family. Lorgan especially, I think.' 'Well, I have to go. I'll be back before you know it.'  
  
Eldarion didn't open his eyes. Memories echoed in his head. That's a significant promise. I won't forget it. When has it been safe? I guess I don't have to remind you to be careful. You always are. Not anymore, he thought to himself, and then wondered vaguely what he meant as he slipped back into nothingness. There was no light for him to slip from. He went from darkness to darkness, wandering in untraveled and empty places.  
  
He wondered if life had ever been different than this. He followed the tracks, a feeling of complete emptiness over him sometimes, not being able to remember happiness. He thought of Rilhir, and Tasarian, Cundariel and Gwalas, Snaga and Aeargil and Eldarion. He thought more of his father. Eldarion, too, of course, but his concern for his uncle had faded, and he felt a dim sense of horror at realizing this. Only dim, though. Hatred and determination...these were the only unstifled emotions. The rest were like muffled voices through a thick wall. The tracks were fresher now, and there was no sign of death. Where they had camped, they left unhidden firepits and signs. He was getting closer. He would catch up in the afternoon tomorrow, perhaps, or the evening if he stopped to rest. Evening, he thought to himself dully. Time to think, and cover of darkness to sneak up in. Maybe I won't kill them right away. Maybe I'll wait and only kill the one. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter.  
  
The hawk fluttered in through the window unnoticed, and landed on his shoulder, startling him out of a deep reverie with a gasp. He untied the short, grubby letter from its ankle, unrolling it hastily. As he read it, his hope faded into horror. King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor, also Aragorn Arathorn's son Grave news; Eldarion your son has been injured. He was shot in the shoulder with a strange arrow. There is an area of purpling coloration surrounding the wound. It is also swollen and has sent him into a state of feverish unconciousness. He wakes perhaps once or twice a day, sometimes fevered or unable to speak. The muscles in his arm, shoulder, and neck are limp and do not seem to work. The arrow must have been poisoned, and we here do not know what it is. Rohan has just retreated. We believe the Methnan'rim and your remaining soldiers are safe. There are many dead of all our men. I believe the count is fifty-three of your Citymen dead, and nearly all the rest injured. It will be weeks before they are well enough to return. The only one whose life is uncertain now is Eldarion. I have sent also a messagehawk to the King Eomer. Perhaps he may tell us the poison and its antidote. We do not know what to do. We have tried all we can think of. We can do nothing more without assistance. Your Ally, Tarmamethnan also King Malril Elmith's son  
  
He read the letter again, and again, and then let it flutter to the floor. The hawk fluttered its wings in agitation and flew over to the window, perching there silently, silhouetted against the red sun. Uncountable minutes later, Arwen walked into the room. 'What's wrong?' she asked softly, hesitating at the look on his face. She saw the letter on the floor and his dim look, and gasped. 'Not -' She hurried over, picking the hawk's message from the floor and scanning it. She gasped again, eyes huge and sparkling, and let out a soft, shattered cry. She sank to the floor next to his chair, and he set a hand on her shoulder gently. After a long moment, he said hoarsely, 'Rohan never uses poison.' We can do nothing more without assistance. 'Eldarion,' he whispered.  
  
Days passed, and Eldarion seemed to be much the same. Once or twice a day, he would wake breifly. Sometimes he was unable to speak, and only occasionally would he eat or drink. But surrounding the wound, the poisoned area had almost doubled, and had darkened almost to purple. In those days, Aeargil left Eldarion's side only twice. She managed to gather that the poison was more severe than they had at first hoped. Eldarion woke less frequently, and for shorter periods of time. His fever burned on. No medicine, no herbs of healing seemed to help. One night, Eldarion awoke lucid. Darkness blanketed the world he woke into. He could see nothing in the darkness. It was very like to his dreams, except by his side a soft voice cried hopeless words of miserable anguish. A gentle hand lay on his own. Instead of heat now, his chest and shoulder were enveloped in a strange, sharp chill and numbness. Pain was gone. He felt tired and weak. He took a deep breath, and heard a soft, trembling voice whisper, 'Eldarion?' He tried to speak her name, but found himself unable indeed to make any sound. A sigh escape Aeargil's lips, and he felt her hand tremble. 'You're awake,' she murmered, voice shaking even more, half-relieved, half- fearful and anguished. Gently she raised his head and kissed him. His head was limp, the muscles in his neck affected by the poison. He tried to lift his hand, but it only twitched and would not move. He contained his grimace, but winced. 'I love you,' she whispered. 'Eldarion? We sent hawks to Eomer and King Elessar asking if they know what the poison was, and what the antidote is. I love you. You know that, don't you? I've always loved you.' She held his limp hand tighter, and vaguely Eldarion felt a teardrop on his palm. He drifted for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then he felt a dull, cold ache in his chest, yet a fiery one. He closed his eyes, mind blissfully blank. Then he opened them again. It took all of his little remaining strength, but he nodded in answer to Aeargil's question. He saw, rather than felt, her head rest on his shoulder, carefully avoiding the healing wound. With a sigh, then, he slept. Oblivion swept him away for a moment with the sigh of the whispering wind. But Aeargil was awake silent until the dawn broke.  
  
Evening had fallen. Celebros crept in the shade, having seen the fire and leading Windscream. He had made up his mind. He had a plan, although it would be hard for him to carry it out without being found out.  
  
Faramir turned to Snaga. 'These tracks are more than a day old,' the orc reported miserably. 'He'll have caught up with them by now. It's too late, Faramir.' 'Don't give up, my friend,' Faramir said softly. 'There is something about this night. It is heavy and light at the same time. We cannot give up. We must keep trying. Hurry!'  
  
He stood outside the circle of light for a while, just watching the five men who sat around the flames talking. Although their voices were not loud, they didn't seem to be trying particularly to remain hidden. 'Well, all I'm saying is, we have enough right now to march up and demand -' 'You're drunk, Rothin. And anyway, who died and made you our leader. I'm goin' to follow Tarel's lead whether or not -' Everyone shot a look at the silent man in the scarlet shirt who sat just outside their circle at the name Tarel, and then the first man cut him off loudly. 'I said I'm only saying, I'm just suggesting we could. I don't want to be no leader.' 'Elbereth save us all of us if you were,' the second man said over him. 'Shut up, you two,' one of the quiet men said, although not the one they called Tarel. He had long brown hair and strange eyes that looked constantly sad and desperate and hurt. 'Just shut your mouths, or we'll be heard.' 'We already have been, it seems,' another man said quietly, his gaze meeting Celebros'. He had black hair, and a short, neat mustache and beard. His eyes were sharp, and at his waist was a broad axe, gleaming silver. The two arguing men spun around with the rest, going for their weapons. Tarel, however, made a sharp motion, and they lowered their blades, though not sheathing them. 'Well?' Tarel said, voice soft and dangerous. 'You clearly weren't trying to hide. Your name, stranger? Your purpose?' Celebros moved forward into the firelight. His grey eyes traveled slowly over the five men, finally resting on Tarel. 'My name is Celebros,' he said quietly, standing very still. His hands were balled into fists, although none of the others seemed to notice. 'My purpose is to join you.'  
  
The hawk flew past Malgalad onto Eomer's shoulder. The aging king looked at it for a moment, then raised his hands slowly and untied the message. Malgalad came over next to the throne, looking at the message over Eomer's shoulder. 'What is this, Malgalad?' Eomer asked finally, looking up at his councillor. 'This king calls our attacks unprovoked, and speaks of the Prince of Gondor being poisoned. I do not understand. They attacked us. And we do not use poison, do we? Is this your doing?' 'He's a liar,' Malgalad said silkily, his breath hot on the King's face. 'He lies to me,' Eomer agreed quietly, eyes unfocusing. 'We used no poison.' 'No, we used no poison.' 'What?' a voice came from the shadows. 'Father, are you all right?' 'The King is fine. He does not need your aid,' Malgalad hissed, but the young man strode out of the shadows, bowing his head and going onto one knee to kiss his father's hand. 'Elfwine,' Eomer said softly. 'More news?' 'Father, are you all right?' 'I...yes, I am.' Elfwine's eyes were concerned. He glanced at Malgalad darkly. 'You may go,' he ordered the councillor. Malgalad nodded, bowed to the Prince and the King, and departed into the shadows quickly, although Prince Elfwine did notice that he grasped his shoulder as he turned, looking pained. 'Father, you were saying to Malgalad we used no poison, but - what is this?' Elfwine cut off, looking at the hawk and the letter. Eomer looked startled, and glanced down at the letter. 'It's from the King of Methnan. The kingdom you're attacking. Isn't it?' 'Yes,' Eomer said, reading the letter. 'It says that Prince Eldarion was shot with a poisoned arrow by our men! What the devil is he doing there?' 'We used no poison,' Eomer repeated softly, eyes dimming. Elfwine's eyes narrowed in anxiety and worry. 'Father, Malgalad said that you ordered the commanders use poisoned arrows. Don't you remember?' The King's face clouded. Elfwine's expression closed. 'You gave no such order,' he said flatly. 'Did you?' 'I - no, I - he must have - have misunderstood,' Eomer finished, looking confused. 'It's - well, I'll have to see whether we know the cure for whatever he ordered them to use.' Elfwine turned back to the letter. '"Unprovoked attacks, killing women and children..."' He looked at his father's dim eyes with disbelief. 'What in Elbereth's name has happened here?' he whispered. Eomer did not seem to hear him. Galadon did, from his refuge in the shadows of the room. He liked shadows.  
  
'Any news?' Tarmamethnan looked up from the scrolls laid out before him on the carved oak table, pain in his eyes as he gazed at his eldest. 'It's too soon, my daughter.' 'They will answer. They must! The King Elessar is learned in lore and healing, he must know what -' Tarmamethnan cut her off. 'Aeargil...' He couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking, couldn't even think it without pain blossoming in his heart. He may not even last that long, he may die tonight, he may never wake again. He may not recover, perhaps the antidote - if there is one at all - perhaps it only halts the effects, instead of reversing them. Instead he said quietly, 'He hasn't woken again, then?' 'No,' Aeargil whispered, turning her head to hide her tears, although they remained in her choked voice. 'He hasn't moved at all. You can barely see his breathing any longer.' 'He is weakening,' Tarmamethnan said gently, looking away from her shaking shoulders. 'Aeargil...he may not last.' He had not meant to say that. Why had he said that? Aeargil tried without success to stifle a sob, and turning, fled the room.  
  
'Left, boy. You always strike from the left. Try again.' 'I can't strike left. Not the way you're teaching it.' 'How would you suggest you get in on my left side?' 'Well, one handed, for starters.' Dareth laughed. Celebros had disliked him since their first meeting. He was extremely condescending and sarcastic, and very stuck-up. 'One-handed? Little bugger, I'd like to see you try.' 'All right.' Having expected Celebros to turn down the offer, Dareth's smile faded slightly at the emotionless grey eyes. Then he chuckled. 'Just don't blame me if you get whopped, bugger.' Celebros did not bother to tell him not to call him 'bugger' - after all, he hadn't listened for the past six hours of the afternoon. 'Ready?' 'Readier than you are, bugger. You're holding that thing wrong.' 'I'll do it my way and you do it yours.' Dareth laughed again. 'Okay,' he said. They repeated the exercise, and Dareth frowned. 'How did you do that?' Celebros shrugged, expressionless. 'My uncle taught me,' he said blandly. 'Where's this uncle of yours?' Dareth asked. 'Sounds like a remarkable fellow.' 'He was,' Celebros said shortly. 'Past tense?' 'I suppose so,' Celebros replied, letting a tinge of emotion enter his face, not quite reaching his frozen eyes. 'Sorry,' Dareth said. He truly sounded it. Celebros hated him even more.  
  
In Minas Tirith, night was darker than ever before. Or so it seemed to the King. He sat in a hard chair, sleepless, exhausted. It was as if someone had pulled a black curtain of darkness over the night. Nothing was right. Nothing. Four days. Four long days had come and gone without news, without food, without sleep. Sleep... It was as if a voice was whispering in his ear. Sleep... He did, and even as he fell from the black world for a time, he dreaded what dreams might come.  
  
'Eldarion!' This was an unfamiliar place. Where was he? This was not Minas Tirith. He called out again. 'Eldarion?' Perhaps his son was here...wherever this was. He had a feeling. There was a voice from behind him. 'Is that my name?' He turned, recognizing the voice, and then the face, of his son. 'Eldarion.' 'Am I?' his son whispered, eyes misty and distant. 'I can't remember.' The dark pools cleared, and his eyes focused. 'Father?' he whispered. 'Are you dead?' Elessar asked, afraid of the answer, and certain of it. Of course he was. 'Dead?' Eldarion laughed, and when he looked back at his father his eyes were clear and sparkling, full of joy and youth and laughter. 'Not yet. Not if I can help it.' 'But this is only a dream.' Eldarion's eyes sobered, although the half-smile did not fade from his confident face. He lay his right hand on the King's right shoulder. 'What are our lives, then, but dreams?' his son asked him. 'What is the world we live in but a dream of all things great and small? What small accomplishments do we know? These are the things that Middle-Earth is made of, Father. Don't give up on me yet.' A strange look crossed his eyes, and he smiled again, confidently. 'You know,' he said quietly, 'we're not alone here.' 'What do you mean, here, Eldarion?' 'We aren't alone in this world.' His eyes lost some of their laughter, and sadness crept in. 'No one is - not even -' 'Who?' his father pressed. 'Celebros,' Eldarion said simply, and then smiled again, broadly. The dream ended, and King Elessar woke again in his uncomfortable chair, hungry and tired and worried. The darkness was not at an end.  
  
Eldarion woke again, breifly. He had had a very strange dream, and it left him with vague misgivings - something was wrong, at home. He could feel it. If not anything else. His entire body felt numb now, except for the strange heat and chill. He heard, as if far away, a door open and close, and running footsteps. He opened his eyes. Aeargil halted beside him, her face far away and anxious, laying a hand on his forehead, although he could barely feel it. 'How do you feel?' she asked, but her face was crumpled in worry and her voice faint and hopeless. She shivered slightly. 'It's so cold...and I am so hot,' he murmered, lips and tongue feeling heavy and thick. 'Yes,' Aeargil whispered. Her eyes were red. She looked as if she had been crying. 'Celebros...' Aeargil looked desperately as if she wanted to say some-thing, but couldn't bring herself to. 'He's...not alone...' 'No,' Aeargil whispered. 'He's all right. He's not alone.' 'I dreamed...' he breathed almost inaudibly. 'I dreamed that Father...thought I was dead...told him...' 'It was only a dream, Eldarion. Hush, love. It's all right. Save your strength.' 'Not a dream...what then are...what then...' Aeargil lay a finger across his lips, and he fell silent. 'Please,' she whispered desperately. 'You're weak right now. You need to save your strength.' As if to confirm her words, Eldarion coughed hard, his body wracked by it. He tasted his own bitter blood in his mouth. 'Sleep,' Aeargil whispered, stroking his cheek gently, and he obeyed.  
  
Dareth sunk the tip of his sword into the heavy dirt, panting. 'Need a breather?' Celebros asked, still performing his complicated twists to an invisible opponent. Dareth glared at him, but his look faded into curiousity. 'Which of them taught you that one?' he asked. 'What one?' Celebros responded, still letting his blade dance. 'The - the flip, so that the hilt goes around your hand, and then you take it again, and slash horizontally.' 'The spiral?' Celebros asked, demonstrating. 'The twist and slash? Or was it in more than one motion?' 'That third one, the third one you just did.' 'No one taught me that. I did it myself.' Dareth looked at him, eyes smouldering. 'Little show-off,' he murmered, having forsaken 'bugger'. His eyes softened again. 'Could you...' he began, as if he was defying the moral grounds on which he stood, '...teach me?' Celebros half-smiled. 'You've got the gift, bugger,' he said devilishly, although unable to summon up the proper satisfaction he would normally have, 'but you don't pay enough attention to the forms. You have to watch my eyes, and pay attention to which you're doing. I've been told my weakness is that I pay too much attention to them.' 'I wish I had that weakness,' Dareth muttered, having chosen to ignore the 'bugger'. Celebros' smile faded, and he strode forward. 'My weakness in the blade killed one of my friends,' he hissed. 'Don't wish that. Don't ever say that again.' Hatred was burning in his eyes, and Dareth saw it, and was afraid. 'Tarel!' Earil called, managing to keep the quiet dangerousness in his voice while shouting for the leader. Tarel turned. 'Yes?' he answered, coming over to his second. 'Watch this,' Earil demanded. 'Again, boys,' he added to Dareth and Celebros. Dareth groaned. Celebros turned away sharply to pick up his dropped blade. 'Is there a problem, Dareth?' Tarel asked, disgust apparent in his face. 'I can't face him, Boss,' Dareth muttered. 'He's too good.' 'Is he now?' Earil asked softly, and smiled coldly. 'Then I will fight him, with your permission, Tarel, and yours, Master Celebros.' Tarel nodded curtly. Celebros' lip curled. Earil walked forward and unsheathed his sword. It was a pale silver, almost white. A single ruby was set in the hilt, and gold traced the center of the blade. Earil bowed, not taking his eyes off Celebros. Celebros did the same, but while there was a faint hint of confidence in Earil's, confidence covered every inch of Celebros' face. Even the way he stood, the way he held his sword, were strange. 'I do hope you are not as foolish as you seem, child,' Earil whispered so that only Celebros could hear. Celebros answered him equally quietly, and very cooly. 'You saw my blade- work against Dareth and were impressed. See it now at a fuller extent - or a lesser one. The fool is the one who underestimates his opponents.' Earil leapt forward, his blade dancing to and fro, quick as lightning. There seemed to be both more and less control in his motions than Celebros had ever seen. He stepped forward, and Earil smiled, obviously thinking that this would be easier than he had thought. Celebros quickly took that notion from his head. He thrust his blade forward, and to the side, pushing Earil's sword that way, and twisted his wrist. His sword arced up high, and Earil's fell from his grasp. Celebros stepped on it, resheathed his own blade, and stared levelly into the man's furious and startled and disbelieving eyes. 'I am no fool,' he said softly. 'And I am not a child.' He reached down and lifted Earil's sword. Earil took it silently.  
  
'I don't understand. What can this mean?' 'Maybe he was forced.' 'There is no logical explanation for this, Faramir.' 'I agree that there is none I can think of. We couldn't have - he wouldn't really join them. They killed his father!' 'But he has. He has, my friend.' 'I wish we had brought a messagehawk. The King Elessar would know what to do.' 'Celebros is incomprehensible. I think that some of the things he does have surprised the King as much as anyone else. He is a shrewd judger of hearts, the King, but Celebros is different. He is completely unpredictable.' 'Snaga, you don't - you don't think -' 'That he joined them to find out which one killed his father?' the orc finished, looking sharply up. 'It is the only thing I can imagine him truly doing now.' 'Then there is still some hope, if we hurry on. If that is indeed his plan, he will try to gain their trust first. They will not travel night and day, even if he did.' 'But we cannot either.' 'We can travel faster.' Faramir smiled grimly. 'Much as I dislike admitting it, I am more hopeful now than I was before we found this.'  
  
Far away from the troubles of the south, Eldarion dreamed of black things, darkened places, and wondered what was happening to him. He would wake, once a day or less often, more likely than not to find Aeargil at his side, or that guard - the guard who - what was his name? The Prince could not recall - it had been a long time ago, and it no longer mattered, that name - he was unable to speak, so he would never again have to know it. He had established this much himself, from the continuously red eyes and the sad faces. They said that there was no way yet to be sure if Rohan or his father knew and was responding, but he had seen his father's eyes. The King of the Reunited Kingdoms would know a cure if there was one, and his father had thought he was dead, in the dream. Hopelessness had been in his eyes, sadness and loss. He had not met his father again through dreams, and had a feeling he would not again, whether in dreams or in waking. He regretted it, although he regretted more knowing that he had broken his promise to Celebros. In the dream, he had known something more about the boy, but he could not recall. Celebros, I'm sorry, he thought to himself through the endless hours of waiting.  
  
Just to hold on to hope one more second, one more hour seemed an accomplishment. Word had come from Rohan that they would try, but none had come from Faramir. Of course; there was no way to communicate, but this silence was forbidding and unbearable. The King longed just to mount and ride, but he had promised himself and his Queen and his people never to do that again, as he had several years ago, at the beginning of the ordeal. As he recalled it, he had been stabbed by an orc then. On the other hand, it had led him to meeting Snaga... Snaga, one of the only two people now who could save Celebros' soul.  
  
Celebros, lying on his stomach on the ground, lifted his head enough to rest it on one palm, unable to sleep. Earil was the only other one not asleep - Celebros had the feeling he didn't sleep much. Celebros ignored him, tracing shapes in the dust with his long fingers. 'You really ought to sleep,' Earil said at last. 'Tarel's going to push us tomorrow. We haven't set any examples for a while.' 'I thought he said we would wait until I was trained in.' Earil sighed. Celebros kept drawing pictures, not looking up. 'Celebros,' he began - he had not called him 'child' since they had fenced three days ago - 'I think more likely he's going to leave it up to you, to teach Rothin and Dareth and Luc how to do this properly. You're better than I am, although that has more to do with being a natural on your part. Tarel's a natural. You're lucky he refuses to fight any of us. I've seen him with a blade. I don't know which of you is better.' 'I'm flattered,' said Celebros, not sounding it, now scratching words into the dust, Sindarin and Quenya and Numenorean. Earil came over and looked down at them, translating slowly. 'You have a gift with language too, I see,' he said quietly. 'I can't even understand all of that, and I was one of the best translators.' 'Some of it is Quenya,' Celebros admitted. 'Don't know why I'm writing that. It's nothing, really.' 'Could you read it to me?' Earil's voice had a strange tone to it. Celebros, still avoiding looking at the man, shrugged. 'I suppose. Though small and plain we know it seems -' 'I thought as much,' Earil said, cutting him off. 'Do you know where that was from?' 'A dagger,' Celebros said. 'I've seen it.' 'Don't be ignorant,' the older man snapped. 'That dagger was destroyed years ago.' 'I've seen it,' Celebros repeated stubbornly. 'Silver, a pattern of vines twisting their way about the hilt, a single curling leaf below the finger groove. Glimmering bright as if the light of the moon itself was drawn to its beauty. Entrancing, capturing, they said years ago, and would say no more. So I know no more. Though small and plain we know it seems...' A dreamy tone had come into his voice, but he stopped speaking abruptly, as if he forgot that he was saying it out loud. Earil looked slightly unnerved. 'That blade is best if left untouched,' he said quietly. 'If it still truly lives, hope that you never have to see it again. It drove him mad, they said. I never saw it, and hope never to have to.' 'It's there,' Celebros said softly. 'I don't have a choice. I see it all the time, and I can't stop going in there.' Earil did not respond, and Celebros looked up from the drawings in the dust at the other man. 'Sometimes, I think I was wrong,' the younger whispered. 'I can feel it. I... I was taken and tortured, a few years ago. You'd probably guessed. The scars are too many to be mere mishaps.' Earil nodded silently. 'And I...I'm not sure if I was meant to die then, and the reason I'm so plagued by misfortune is like compensation. Like punishment for cheating death. But still, I don't want to die, and I never have. My friends...they care about me, but they avoided me more and more before I left. They knew that I preferred solitude most of the time, or Eldarion. But he's dead now.' Celebros' eyes screamed desolation. 'He must be, by now.'  
  
Tasarian glanced over at his sister, sitting by the window, standing up occasionally to pace in miserable useless fury, and then eventually sinking back into the chair. He was worried, Elbereth knew, for her and the King and Faramir and Celebros and Eldarion, Snaga and Malgil - everyone. But she was silent, saying nothing, and he could not read her eyes any longer. He had noticed that more, lately. He could not tell what she was thinking. A knock came at the door, and both of them twisted around to stare at it. Tasarian stood from his own seat and walked to answer it, not sure if he wanted to run, not sure if he wanted to answer at all. They only came for news, now. No one came except for news. It was Gwalas, looking exhausted and worn. 'Come in,' Tasarian said quietly. 'Sit, my friend.' Gwalas obeyed silently, sinking into the extra chair and glancing at the empty one beside him - the one where Celebros or Eldarion usually sat. He leaned back and closed his eyes breifly, then opened them again. 'The King got a message from Elfwine,' he said firmly. 'He thinks something is wrong with his father. He wouldn't say more about that. He might have found a cure for Eldarion. He isn't sure.' Cundariel turned back to the window wordlessly. 'What?' she said after a very long silence. It was the first words she had spoken in hours, and her voice was rough and low. 'It's a complex mixture, I understand - he had to bribe the man who made the poison to find out - but he isn't sure whether it will really work. It's a new kind of poison, something the councillor or someone made.' 'He might not last that long - long enough to get it to Methnan.' Tasarian's voice was anguished. Gwalas nodded, eyes closed again. 'The King is...it's indescribable. They're sending one hawk with a small sample of the antidote, a rider with more, and another messager bird - some other kind, smaller and quicker - with the method to make it.' 'And is there any word about Celebros?' Cundariel's voice almost broke. 'No,' Gwalas said. In that one word, his misery and agony and tension were forced hard. Tasarian clenched his teeth tight and waited a long while longer.  
  
It was a young woman they found, little older than Celebros, and Tarel pointed her out to them from a distance. 'I have a better idea,' Celebros said quietly. 'You're doing this as a protest, to encourage fear. Her death will encourage only anger. We catch her, hold her, and let her free, all the while letting her think that we mean to kill her, and letting her escape seeming like a mistake at which we are infuriated. She carries the word back to the city, and panic will spread.' 'You don't want to kill, do you?' Luc asked. He sounded almost incredulous, but a bit admiring. 'Much as I dislike it,' Earil said, meeting Celebros' eye steadily, 'he is correct, Tarel.' 'Indeed,' Tarel said quietly. He did not look pleased, but not displeased either, just...soft and dangerous. 'You do the honors, Celebros. How long do you suggest we hold her?' 'Several hours,' Celebros said quietly. 'Inspire fear in her. It will be best for our cause.' Tarel merely nodded, and Celebros mounted, motioning for the others to get down. They did so, and he rode forward, pretending to be unconcerned and calm. The woman was on foot, wearing middle-class clothing, looking about with sparkling eyes. She drew in a startled breath when Celebros approached. 'Who are you?' she asked, in a slightly breathless and frightened voice. 'I am only one,' Celebros said quietly. 'Where do you go to, lady?' The woman did not answer, but the frightened look diminished, if it did not vanish entirely. 'What is your name? Where do you come from?' 'I am of Minas Tirith, or once was,' he replied. 'My name...what a strange thing to ask for.' 'I only wish to know what to call you.' 'Do not call me,' Celebros answered, dismounting. 'Follow me.' He stared into her eyes. She saw something strange there, a deep sadness, and did as he bid her to. 'Where are you leading me?' 'You must trust me, lady, whatever may happen. You must trust me. I do not mean to hurt you.' She drew back more, then looked curious and came up to walk beside him. 'Marilen,' she said quietly, looking up at him. 'My name. Marilen.' 'I advise you not to be so free with your name, lady.' 'Please, don't call me lady.' 'Don't tell them your name,' he said quietly, and looked her straight in the eye for the first time. She shivered, but stared back at him. He reached out and grasped her upper arm. Later, a long time later, she would find five bruises where his fingers and thumb had been. His eyes were urgent and... something else. 'Just trust me.' There was a very, very long silence but for the sound of their footsteps in the high grass and those of Celebros' horse. 'Who -' she began, but it was that moment that Dareth and Luc sprang up, one grabbing either of her arms. She screamed, eyes widening, trying to fight them. Tarel stood nearby, and Earil, watching the process. Luc tied her hands and gagged her, not very tight. Earil looked away. Tarel, however, shifted his hard gaze to Celebros, and smiled. He bowed, a half- mocking motion, and said something sharp to Earil. Celebros did not hear it. Something was frozen in his mind. Marilen had trusted him, and he had betrayed her. Hadn't he? Hadn't she? Perhaps not.  
  
Marilen's struggling had faded. It was night now, and Celebros was on watch. Tarel had told him that it was up to him when they should free her. Luc had finally fallen asleep. Celebros crawled over to her. She was awake, and a look of such betrayal and fear was in her eyes as he approached that he could have screamed. Slowly, he untied the gag, and before she could speak or scream put a hand over her mouth. 'Shh,' he commanded. 'Quiet.' He untied the ropes around her wrists next. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. 'They were going to kill you, and I had to convince them.' She didn't move for a moment, then nodded mutely. 'Take one of the horses and go back,' Celebros continued in a low voice. 'But could you do me a favor? Could you send a messagehawk to Gwalas Windleaf in Minas Tirith and tell him something for me?' She stared into his eyes. The moonlight was reflected in them, and they looked sadder than ever. Marilen nodded slowly. 'Write this. "Caladin's boy is still alive, and plans to be for some time yet. I'm sorry. I have to do it." All right?' Marilen nodded again, and repeated his message quietly. Then she looked at him strangely. 'You're Lord Celebros, aren't you?' she said quietly. 'Aren't you?' 'Yes,' he said, his throat constricted. 'Don't tell anyone you've seen me, and don't sign the message to Gwalas. All right?' Again, she just nodded. She looked at the ground, then said quietly, 'I'm sorry about what happened - all of it. We heard, in Edoras. But there's still some hope. There's a rumor that Elfwine sent some antidote.' She stopped suddenly, seeing the confusion in his eyes. 'Oh, Elbereth,' she said, her voice deadly quiet. 'You haven't even heard yet, have you?' 'Heard what?' Celebros said. 'Something about Eldarion?' She avoided his eye, standing and starting to walk toward the horses. He grabbed her arm, and she looked at him again, then pulled away. She mounted Luc's horse and looked down at him again. 'He was shot with a poison arrow,' she said softly. 'Thank you.' Then she was gone, and he was left standing there and looking after her, even after she was long gone.  
  
The hawks had arrived within the same day - one at dawn and one at dusk. Lorgan had been the one to receive the first one, the one with the detailed description as to how to make the anitidote. Aeargil had gotten the second one. The problem was, Eldarion was so close to dead that all were afraid it might make no difference. Aeargil had immediately given the small portion to Eldarion, and Lorgan had taken the first message to anyone and everyone who might be able to help. The rider would not arrive for another nine days, nine long and terrible nights. When he did at last, things had already happened, things of such importance that not everyone would remember the arrival at all, or would think it of little importance.  
  
Gwalas was awakened early by a large and magnificent messagehawk. He blinked wearily, then his senses sharpened and he nearly tore the message in his haste to open it. He unrolled it slowly, wanting and not wanting to read. He didn't recognize the handwriting, and it was in neat, childish script, as if written by someone who had been taught how to write early but had never used the skill very much. It read:  
  
To Gwalas Windleaf Minas Tirith From Marilen Marthien's daughter Edoras  
  
I do not know you, but I have met someone who apparently does. He begged me not to write any more than he asked me to, but I fear he is in danger, although I cannot be sure. We in Edoras heard of his father's death, but still we wander the plains. A death of a noblewoman has been heard of by the same men who killed Caladin son of Mardin.  
  
Gwalas almost stopped breathing. This woman...she had met Celebros, and recently, by all accounts. He frantically continued reading.  
  
I was out one afternoon three days ago as I write this when I came across a young man on horseback. His eyes were piercing grey, and he refused to tell me his name, but dismounted and bid me walk with him. He insisted I must trust him. He mentioned a 'they', and I was just asking who they were when two of the bandits leapt up and grabbed my arms. That evening, I observed the Lord Celebros and the bandits working together, at least to some degree. He was very cold toward them, all but one. I was confused, frightened, and betrayed, but unhurt. I did not think they would kill me. I saw the look in his eyes when he insisted I trust him. That night, when he was on guard, he waited until the rest were asleep, then took off my bonds. He apologized, and told me to take a horse and go, but bid me to tell you this: "Caladin's boy is still alive, and plans to be for some time yet. I'm sorry. I have to do it." I promised I would. I guessed who he was, and told him I had heard and I was sorry, and that there were rumors of Prince Elfwine sending an antidote to Methnan. He was confused. I told him before I left that the Prince Eldarion had been shot with a poisoned arrow. He just stood there, not moving, and at last when I looked back I could not see him. I am confused as to the Lord's action's, but I give you my word now that I have told no one save the Prince Elfwine, and he as well as I give you our words that we will tell no one else. I would ask you to send me a message, if you would be so kind, if you hear anything about the Lord Celebros. Thank you.  
  
Gwalas sat frozen for a minute, phrases seeming to jump off the paper and tear a hole in his heart. I observed the Lord Celebros and the bandits working together, at least to some degree. He was very cold toward them, all but one. Caladin's boy is still alive, and plans to be for some time yet. I'm sorry. I have to do it. I fear he is in danger. 'Elbereth Gilthoniel,' he sighed. 'No, Celebros.' His chances were limited. He could copy this message and send it to Faramir and Snaga along with one of his own. He could even send a message directly to Celebros, although that would arouse suspicion...maybe he could write it somehow in a way that only Celebros would understand. Together. All but one. Caladin's boy. Plans. Do it. In danger. Gwalas stood up slowly, and decided to pay a visit to the King Elessar.  
  
Faramir looked at the tracks appraisingly. 'We're gaining on them. They slept here last night, but -' Faramir caught sight of a new track, something he had not seen before. He swore suddenly and loudly. 'One of the horses went a different direction,' he moaned to the orc. 'One of the horses, and we don't know if it's Celebros or not!' 'He won't leave them until he's avenged his father. One of the others must have left. It doesn't matter.' 'All right,' Faramir said, a bit resignedly. 'It wouldn't make sense for him to leave them now. You're right. But I wish I could decide.' 'I already have, Faramir, my friend,' Snaga replied with some satisfaction. 'If Celebros has left them, he is no longer in danger, yes? Come along.'  
  
'I didn't realize she had taken it until it was already gone!' Celebros said loudly, for the third time. 'I'm sorry, but there was nothing I could have done about it! I couldn't stop her - she was too quick.' 'It doesn't matter, Tarel,' Earil said, also loudly. 'We can take turns running.' Tarel looked angrily from one to the other. 'YOU will take turns running,' he snapped. 'The two of you. Celebros, you first. Luc, ride Earil's horse, and Earil, ride Celebros'.' Earil shrugged at Celebros to show that he didn't enormously mind getting dragged into this. Celebros flashed a very unenthusiastic and weak smile. All but one.  
  
The small dose of antidote did virtually nothing for Eldarion - nothing visible, in any case. He had not moved at all in three days, had not woken in four. Lorgan found the ingredients listed in the message, all but one - a certain herb native to the south. They despaired.  
  
Earil was still riding and Celebros still running when they stopped that night. Celebros lay down still when they set up camp, not eating, having only a small portion of water. When the rest were asleep, Earil came over and sat down next to Celebros. The young man's eyes were open wide, reflecting the stars and the sky. There was silence a moment. 'You didn't have to do that.' 'I don't want you suffering for what I did.' 'So you did offer her the horse,' Earil said, his voice quiet and unsurprised. 'That was kind of you. And rather stupid.' 'I couldn't kill her,' Celebros whispered, closing his eyes. 'She reminded me of someone I knew once.' He almost said the name, but it died on his lips. Aeargil. He wondered in the silence that followed if Aeargil was dead too. He couldn't imagine her without Eldarion, with Eldarion dead. Dead. A tear leaked out from Celebros' closed eyes, and Earil whispered a Sindarin prayer. 'I'm sorry,' he added after it. 'I'm sorry, mellon nin.' Celebros opened his eyes again. They sparkled with unshed tears still, and he smiled a bit. 'Thank you.' 'You're a good person, and you didn't come here to join us, to kill,' Earil whispered. 'That man we killed, on the border of Gondor. Was he your father?' Celebros stared at the man in disbelief. 'He looked like you,' Earil said softly. 'Tarel doesn't remember, I expect. He...I wish I could be like you.' 'You could,' Celebros said almost pleadingly. 'I'm not good. And I did come here to kill. And I will kill, whether it's you or Luc or Tarel. I have to do it.' 'I couldn't,' Earil said flatly. 'I couldn't ever be good like you. Look at you - you're angry. You're young. You've been hurt. But you haven't killed yet, and you won't. Don't betray yourself and your friends.' 'One of you killed my father!' Celebros whispered fiercely, a light coming into his eyes. 'I watched him die, and the last thing he said to me was that he was sorry. He never cared, Earil. He never loved me, until he died. I lost him, but he had lost me years before then, when I was a child. My uncle was the one who cared, the one who loved me, my uncle and my grandfather. And now my uncle's dead, and my grandfather doesn't understand. He'll never understand.' 'So your grandfather...' Earil continued slowly. 'You're Celebros. Celebros Ithilron Telcontar. Son of Caladin. Grandson of the Elfstone King Elessar Telcontar.' Celebros didn't answer for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. 'Tarel will kill me,' he whispered. 'I will die, if he finds out. Or perhaps be held ransom.' 'He will not find out,' Earil said, his voice quietly bared steel. 'I will not betray you, Celebros son of Caladin, if I am held at swordpoint and told to. I was not the one who killed your father, I will tell you that now. I have heard of your deeds, Celebros, from Edoras where I lived until a year ago. I have heard and I have cared. But not until now did I understand. I saw the scars, and I saw your face, and I wondered, but I did not know, mellon nin. And now I do.' Celebros smiled and sighed, closing his eyes in relief and weariness. 'Do you...' Earil began slowly. '...know Faramir?' 'Yes,' Celebros said in some surprise. His voice was quiet now, as if he was very close to sleep. 'I...' Earil began quietly. 'I knew him. We were children together. My father and mother, you see, did not live together - my father in Edoras, my mother Minas Tirith. I lived with my mother until I was fourteen years. I met Faramir when I was four. He was lonely - his brother he loved, of course, and would play with him when Boromir would allow, but Faramir was young and Boromir had more to do - his education, learning his history and his duties. So I would play with him. I left, when we were fourteen. I saw him once since then, when your grandfather came, and I visited Minas Tirith. My mother moved to Edoras then, after the war, and I have lived there until a year ago. Then I met Tarel...' His eyes grew sad, and he shook his head, looking away to the dark horizon. 'I made a mistake there. I am older than I look, you see - my mother was half-Elven and my father had some Elven and Numenorean blood in him as well.' Celebros nodded. 'I don't see Faramir much. He spends his time in Ithilien, mostly. But I see him once or twice a month, when I'm in the City, and when I'm not...' His face closed, as if shutters had been pulled, and Earil saw that and did not speak any more. After a while, he sighed heavily and moved away.  
  
Lorgan entered Eldarion's room to find virtually no change, except for the fact that Aeargil was asleep. She had been there for days, not leaving to eat or sleep. She just sat there, crying or whispering something that no one could not hear. Her head was currently resting on the bed. She was holding Eldarion's cold hand in one of hers, her head pillowed on the other, still half-sitting in the chair. Lorgan stood there a moment, staring dimly at them, then turned and left. There was no need to wake Aeargil to report his continued failure. He walked down the narrow, dim hallway in silence to the room where the rest of them were gathered; his father, his daughter, his brothers and younger sister. 'She's asleep,' he announced into the continuing silence, and sat at his place on the table. It was round, with eight chairs. One had been for his mother, at first, but Silmarien now sat there, beside him, and Tarmamethnan on her other side, and Barad and Elleth, and Tarrilas, and finally Eadon. Normally, Aeargil would fill the space between himself and Eadon. Silmarien sighed. Lorgan reached out and took her hand silently, and she took the King's. Tarmamethnan reached out to Barad. The circle continued in slow silence and sadness. Last Eadon reached hesitantly across Aeargil's chair and grasped Lorgan's hand. A family circle, with missing links. Lorgan wished it were that easy. After a moment, as if released, they all stood and seperated, each going to do what they needed. Finally, only Silmarien and Lorgan stood in the room. Silmarien hugged her father tightly, and he returned it. 'What am I going to do, sweet?' he whispered to her. 'Whatever you have to, Ada.'  
  
The King had heard the news from the north - Eldarion had not woken now for days. He was dying more surely than ever. And still, Elfwine had written. The only problem was, Eomer's son had not known that cetyl only grew in the south. He was sending a supply, of course - a large one. But it would take several days to get there, and Eldarion might even already be dead. I would know, he told himself fiercely, I would know when my son died. I would know. But he didn't. He could not tell. He was not sure. And he had heard the news from the west, from Gwalas, from Marilen. Gwalas had come into his room, face crumpled, handed him the letter, and left promptly. King Elessar had read it, moving his lips as he did so - not quite silent and not aloud, afraid of both. Then he had set it down on the table and buried his face in his hands. My son is dead, my son-in-law is dead, my grandson is fading, my daughter is mourning, my life is worthless.  
  
The cetyl arrived four days after the first messagehawks had - four days that seemed like four years. Eldarion's face was grey, and the poison had spread up his neck and down his arm and chest. It covered half his body - a sick-looking colored area, like a bruise, and the wound swollen beneath careful bandages. Aeargil was sitting in silence when Eadon entered with a strange look in his eyes. 'He's still here,' she said. That was the only phrase she had repeated in nearly six days near hearing ears. He's still here. 'Aeargil, King Elessar - he sent the cetyl we needed.' Aeargil looked puzzled, as if uncertain what that meant. Then her composure shattered, and she took a deep, shuddering breath and started to sob. Eadon came over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Shhh...' he whispered. 'Shhh...'  
  
Celebros felt lightened the next morning. It was cold and clear and faraway. The sun was just rising, and the rest were asleep - Earil sitting with a hand on his sword hilt. Something jarred in Celebros' mind. That was what Eldarion always did, when he fell asleep by mistake. When he was woken, he'd sit up quickly and stiffly, then settle back down, and it would always make Celebros laugh. How long has it been since I laughed? He couldn't remember.  
  
But to the disappointment of the Methnan'rim and the Gondorian soldiers in Minas Methith, the antidote brought close to no visible change at first. It seemed to simply keep the prince alive for one day longer, and one longer. It prolonged the agony of helplessness. Then Aeargil told her father when he entered one morning six days after the antidote had arrived, and several after the rider had come, that the poisoned area was shrinking - more and more rapidly as time went on. It was only a matter of time before he woke again.  
  
Celebros watched the band carefully and from a distance for the next several days, even Earil. Luc and Rothin were stupid - they had no sense of strategy. Luc was keen on details but missed the main point, and Rothin missed it all - he seemed to be in a perpetual state of oblivious drunk stupidity. Dareth was not the brightest star in the sky, but he was quiet, and he saw things, and he was strong. Tarel was entirely too cunning for Celebros to maintain a sense of calmness. He saw every-thing, heard everything, and was wickedly precise with the sword. Then there was Earil. Earil was strange. That was all there was to him - he was entirely a mystery. But he was neither good nor bad. Celebros wasn't sure whether he was up to a direct confrontation with Tarel, and would not risk it. He had no time for uncertainty. Earil was not a man who would turn entirely to Tarel, but neither, Celebros guessed, would he turn entirely away unless it meant his life, or Celebros'.  
  
The King Elessar breathed again. His son was healing - slowly, they said, very slowly. He will never be entirely as strong in that arm. He will never fully recover from the arrow- wound. His son was healing.  
  
'Cundariel.' She looked up from the paper. 'Yes?' 'You haven't eaten.' 'I'm not hungry.' 'In three days!' Tasarian persisted more loudly. 'You haven't slept in over a week! You haven't talked in hours at least, and then it's not talking. I'm going out, Tasarian, I'm reading, that's all, Tasarian, no, Tasarian, yes, of course, dear brother.' His voice was a bitter imitation of hers. 'You weren't even this worried when we thought Eldarion had no chance, or when Gwalas got the letter!' 'Something's wrong, all right?' Cundariel said, setting down the paper and putting her fingers to her temples. 'Something isn't right, and I don't know what it is?' 'Dreams?' 'No. Just a feeling.' 'That's what it's been for me, but starving yourself won't help Celebros.' 'I'm not hungry.'  
  
'Aeargil,' Lorgan said, interrupting the long silence. Aeargil opened her eyes slowly. 'He's waking up.' She nodded, glancing at Eldarion. 'He's getting stronger,' she whispered. 'I knew it was only a matter of time.' 'Shhh...' Lorgan said, and leaned over to whisper in his sister's ear. 'What do we tell him, if he wakes?' 'I don't know. I'll decide then.' Aeargil's voice was soft but steady. She had started eating again, although the added news that the King had broken to them was weighing on her. She was glad that the King Elessar had not told them before. Celebros, why? she wondered silently. He might as well be dead for all we see each other. Fifteen minutes walk, and not a word in almost a year. That was cruel, and unfair of her to remember, but she did. But still...she couldn't believe it. He plans to avenge his father Eldarion's father had written. He plans to avenge his father and take back what is his - the sword passed down father to son for generations. He may succeed. It was the last three word that chilled her. He may succeed. Eldarion opened his eyes slowly. He didn't speak or move for a moment, and then he whispered something. 'Oh, Elbereth.' It was almost a gasp. He blinked several times. 'Oh, Elbereth Gilthoniel, the light.' Aeargil half-started, but Lorgan had already leapt to the window and pulled the curtain on it. Eldarion sighed. 'Thank you,' he said. His voice was - almost normal. Softer than usual, with a strange hint in it, but almost normal, almost... calm. 'Eldarion,' she whispered, and he lifted a hand and touched her face. He seemed very weak. She took his hand and held it against her cheek, and he smiled a bit. He closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them, they were clearer. 'How long has it been?' he asked, his voice sharp and strange, pulling his hand weakly away from Aeargil's. She exhaled slowly. 'Since the last time I woke up,' he clarified. 'Three days? Four?' Lorgan glanced at Aeargil, but she did not say anything. He looked at Eldarion sadly. Eldarion was looking between the two of them uncertainly. 'Twenty-two,' Lorgan said quietly.  
  
It was dusk; a cold, hard, brown dusk. Winds blew through the fields, making the already-small campfire flicker, and die once an hour or so. Celebros stared at it, memories fickering through his head. The embers died again, and Celebros looked up to find Tarel looking at him hard. 'What's bothering you?' he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. Earil turned around, Dareth glanced up from where he was crouched by the saddlebags, and Luc and Rothin glanced dimly from their places across the fire from each other, a bit closer to Celebros than to Tarel. Earil was almost next to Tarel, although he looked as if he wanted to move away, and stood across from Dareth. Finally Celebros spoke, his cold grey eyes meeting Tarel's level brown gaze. 'Dreams,' he said, simply and half-truthfully. 'What drove you from Gondor, Celebros?' the man persisted. 'You aren't a poor man - that's a fine horse you've got there, and good clothes.' 'I stole the horse,' he said quietly. 'I lost everything that I had but one person, and I threw that last scrap of hope that I had away.' 'Regretting it?' 'Yes.' 'Leaving us soon?' Celebros smiled a bit, staring at Tarel although Earil's gaze was harder. The young man's smile was cold and sharp. 'I don't know.' 'Hope not,' Tarel said, looking around at the others scornfully, although also avoiding Earil's eye. 'Your blade's a far shot better than these men's. Where'd you get it?' 'Stole it.' 'Ah,' Tarel nodded grimly. 'That's the best way to get the best swords.' 'Did you steal yours?' Celebros asked blandly. Tarel shrugged. 'One of the two.' 'Could I see it?' he persisted. Dareth held up a sheathed sword from the saddlebags, pulling it out slightly to show off the sun carved onto the blade, near the hilt.  
  
In Methnan, Eldarion woke from an uneasy sleep. Aeargil had at last left his side to spread the news, and he was alone in the room. 'Oh, Elbereth, no,' he whispered.  
  
Celebros took a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling the world twist about him. How many times had he seen that blade? He had never been aloud to touch it, but it was always there. Twelve years, every day, it would be strapped to his father's belt, whether he had been on duty or not. And even after I left, he still wore it, Celebros thought to himself. That's his blade. That's his. Caladin's. My father's.  
  
Cundariel woke with a start from the chair by the fire. Tasarian was still awake, at the table near the window. He looked up. Cundariel stood. 'Celebros -'  
  
'What is it?' he heard Dareth ask in a rough voice, as if from far away. He set the sword down, looking at Celebros. 'Which of you fought the man who owned this?' he asked a bit unsteadily. 'Which of you -'  
  
'Celebros, Elbereth -'  
  
'I did,' Tarel cut him off, standing up and nodding his head slightly. Celebros stood as well, and Luc and Rothin slowly followed suit, uncrossing their arms and looking around as if to ask what was happening. Dareth remained crouched by the saddlebags, head twisted to look at Celebros.  
  
'Celebros, Elbereth help you -'  
  
'My name,' he whispered to himself, 'is -'  
  
'Celebros, Elbereth help you, no! Don't -'  
  
'- is Celebros Ithilron Telcontar, son of Caladin, son of Mardin, son of Echelir, son -' He stopped, and said it louder. 'My name is Celebros Ithilron Telcontar, son of Caladin.'  
  
'Celebros, Elbereth help you, no! Don't do this, don't -'  
  
He moved forward, feeling as if he were made of metal - moving slowly and heavily. Every moment echoed in his ears, ever breath seemed to scream at him. He raised his arms so that the forearms faced Luc and Rothin on either side, slamming -  
  
'Don't do this, don't become one of -'  
  
- slamming them out to either side, hardly feeling the blow connect with the two faces, but hearing the crunches with agonizing detail.  
  
'Don't do this, don't become one of them!'  
  
Eldarion sat up slowly, wide awake, breathing hard and feeling his entire body tense, as if waiting for a blow.  
  
The King Elessar opened his eyes, and closed them again. He knew in his heart that it was too late.  
  
'I am the grandson of King Elessar.' He kicked Dareth hard, in the face - the startled, wide eyes seemed to slap him. He saw Earil begin to draw his sword, and Celebros drew his too. 'No.' He said it loudly, but Earil ignored it - the blade was half out - it was more than half - He was still hearing the loud, sick, satisfying crunch, still knowing that he had very solidly broken Dareth's nose, still feeling hatred course through him. My apologies, mellon nin, he thought to Earil. He was suddenly moving very fast.  
  
'NO! No, no, no, no, no, no -'  
  
Gwalas sat frozen in the chair by the window.  
  
He flung himself between Earil and Tarel, pulling out his sword and slamming it into Earil's face. Soundless, Earil crumpled. Oh, Elbereth, let him be all right, Celebros thought. He gave Tarel time to draw his blade, and they threw themselves into a fierce dance of silver and moonlight and blood.  
  
Later, Celebros would not be able to recall what was going through his head at that time. All that he knew was that he felt intense hatred, and he did not see Tarel's face when he looked at it, but someone else's entirely. He was panting. Would it never end? They were perfect equals, he and Tarel, and he didn't know how long they had been fighting. He gasped, thrusting his blade into Tarel's arm, and Tarel screamed, but began to fight one-handed. Blood soaked his tan shirtsleeve. The stolen sword broke, and he ducked, lunging over Dareth's still form to the saddlebags. His fingers curled around the unfamiliar hilt, and he unsheathed it, holding it so tight that his knuckles were white. Slash - thrust - parry - block-slash-parry- blockparryblockslashthrustslashslashslash - Tarel was clenching his teeth, his arm hanging limp and bloody at his side. Father. With a roar, Celebros attacked even more fiercely. Tarel moaned and fell back. The clashing song of steel and silver dance of moonlight halted. Tarel's sword clattered from his hand, and he sank shuddering to his knees. Both looking dazed, Celebros walked forward to where Tarel knelt clutching his bloody arm. He lifted his blade and placed it at the kneeling man's throat. 'Where...did you learn...to fight like that?' he gasped between groans and ragged breaths. Celebros neither answered nor moved. 'Do you know...what that inscription means?' Tarel hissed, trying to conceal the wild fear in his eyes. 'Do...' He shook his head, unable to finish whatever he had been about to say. 'I know what it says,' Celebros said softly, breathing hard, 'and I am not to judge its meaning.' 'Do you...' Tarel began again, but shook his head again. Celebros raised the tip of his sword. A trickle of blood ran from a pinprick in the man's throat. 'You won't bring your father back this way.' 'Offer me whatever I want,' Celebros whispered. 'Anything you want, you shall have,' Tarel hissed, his eyes darting to a spot behind Celebros. 'I want my father back, you worthless bastard,' Celebros hissed in reply, pulling his blade back quickly. Then someone caught his wrist. Furious, Celebros whipped his head around - - to stare into the deep, solemn eyes of Faramir.  
  
Cundariel sat for a moment silent and tense, and then sighed.  
  
Snaga stood silently behind him, looking around at the four motionless forms. One - the one across from the man slumped over the saddlebags - was stirring slightly. The man Celebros had fought was kneeling, silent, eyes frozen wide in terror. The man by the bags and the other two had extremely thoroughly broken noses. Celebros' face suddenly changed, as if reality had been slammed back into him. He gasped, his sword dropping to the ground, staring at Faramir unblinkingly. Then he looked away, wrenching his hand from the firm grasp, and stumbled away a few steps, toward the stirring man. Next to him, Celebros collapsed to his knees, and then curled into a ball, knees to his chest, head on his knees, gripping his hair with his hands tightly.  
  
Tasarian rose from his chair. 'It's happened, hasn't it?' he whispered. 'Has he...' 'Whatever it was,' Cundariel breathed, 'it's all over.'  
  
Celebros looked up dimly. Faramir was muttering something to himself. Tarel had his wrists tied, and Snaga was tying the still-unconcious others, leaving Earil alone. Time seemed to have passed without him... Earil was sitting up beside him, and Celebros became aware that he was speaking to him. '...all right? Celebros? Are you -?' 'I'm...' Celebros whispered, and shook his head. 'No.' 'Are you hurt at all?' 'He didn't touch me. Not once.' Earil nodded silently, and lifted his chin acknowledgingly to Snaga as the little orc approached. 'So you're Snaga,' he said quietly. Snaga glared at Celebros a bit and nodded, and Earil held out his wrists.  
  
'I'm not going back,' Celebros said quietly as Faramir saddled his horse. Faramir glanced back at him. 'You are if I have to tie you up, too.' 'I can't, Faramir.' 'Celebros, what you've done is in all rights -' 'I don't care.' Earil, wrists bound a bit more loosely than some of the others, nudged Celebros. 'You've got to come back,' he said almost pleadingly. 'You have to help me. I don't have any proof otherwise that I was trying to -' 'What you were doing was trying to help him, and what he was doing was against the laws of these countries.' Earil was silent. Faramir sighed. 'What's your name?' 'Don't you recognize me, Faramir?' Earil whispered, his eyes fixed on the tall Steward's face. 'Don't you recognize me?' Faramir searched his eyes, and narrowed his own a moment. Then he gasped and grabbed the other man's shoulder. 'Earil?' he whispered. 'Earil?' 'The same,' Earil said quietly. Faramir closed his eyes. 'I never...' he muttered, shaking his head. 'I never thought, I never knew...why, Earil? Why this? Why them?' He gestured towards Tarel and the other bandits, who were waking at last, very slowly. 'He told me...' Earil breathed, looking at Tarel, avoiding Faramir's sad, strange gaze. But then he shook his head, made an indistinct sound in his throat, and sighed. 'I don't know.' 'It's been so long...' 'More than sixty years.' 'I thought you had gone. I thought you had gone years ago.' 'I couldn't leave without Isilphir. And when she died... I don't even know anymore.' 'Come on, Celebros,' Faramir said, still looking at Earil with wonderment. 'I'm not going.' 'Morgoth take you, Celebros!' Earil exploded. 'Are you blind? You joined us. You joined us, and in doing that forfeited your life. Your grandfather may beg you off, may forgive you, but you don't have a choice.' 'Where are we in Rohan?' Celebros asked, ignoring everything they had just said. 'Near the southeast border,' Earil answered. 'We circle, a bit off every time. I've made nine loops since I joined them. Why does it matter?' Celebros looked away and shrugged. 'Celebros,' Faramir said, his voice hardened and tense. 'Come on.' 'We're a horse short.' 'Snaga can ride with you. He still doesn't like riding alone, even if he can.' 'Celebros,' Earil said quietly. 'It's no use.' Celebros slumped slightly, turning to look at Tarel. The man was staring at him, hatred and some degree of respect in his eyes. I did do it, didn't I? I got as far as I could. I convinced them. I acted my part, even if I didn't finish my job. And I don't want to now, Celebros realized. I don't need to now. I hate that I ever could have needed to. He mounted the horse.  
  
'Did you hear about Eldarion?' Snaga asked. 'Celebros?' 'Marilen told me a bit. Do you know if he's dead?' Why did I ask that? Of course he is. 'I'm not sure. I haven't gotten any news - any at all.' Snaga made an indistict sound after that. 'I don't think any news we would have gotten would be good. I...am sorry.' 'She said that Elfwine had sent an antidote. She said that she was sorry. As if she didn't think it would work.' 'Or perhaps it was too late, or she thought it was.'  
  
Eldarion's sleep was restless. Aeargil had, after a deal of persuasion, agreed to take shifts watching him, although she often "forgot" to wake someone else when her shifts were late. Other times she would stay after her shift had ended, and insisted on being gotten immediately if he woke. He woke much more often, and although he was tired much of the time, and weak, he was getting stronger.  
  
'Don't worry,' Celebros said quietly. 'I'll go with you, and you shall come to no harm. Not unless they kill me too.' 'I did terrible things,' Earil half-snarled. 'You have no idea...' 'Did you kill?' 'No, but I stood by as others did.' 'Did you try?' 'No.' 'I did.' 'I know. But you didn't succeed.' 'A bitter thought. I couldn't be what he wanted me to be when he was alive, and I couldn't even help him when he was dead.' Celebros laughed. It sounded cold and empty and ruthless. 'Help him?' Earil whispered. 'You think avenging someone helps them? You just about died, from what I heard. What was the name of the man who did it?' 'No, don't try that. It wouldn't work. I'd want him to be killed, because otherwise he'd kill again.' 'Not if he was a prisoner.' Celebros laughed again. 'But you never met Eldir.'  
  
Eldarion felt like kicking something, but decided against it. He was frustrated. It had been what seemed like ages, but he still couldn't stand without help, still couldn't use his hands steadily - they would shake and tremble. Still couldn't stay awake for the whole day. Couldn't use his arm right. Couldn't move his head without having to clench his teeth to stop from crying out with the pain in his neck. It hurt so badly to use his arm, or to shift the tiniest bit, or to turn his head in the slightest. He sighed in resignation, and tried to sleep again.  
  
'Oh, dear Elbereth.' The towers of Minas Tirith seemed to throw themselves at Celebros. 'It's beautiful,' he whispered. 'I'd forgotten how beautiful it was.' Earil laughed. 'You haven't seen it in a couple months, I haven't seen it in sixty years, and I had not forgotten.' Near the gates to the Inner City, the King appeared. Celebros fell silent. The King's gaze lingered on him, and he did not speak directly to any of them. 'This way,' he say quietly, turning around and walking away. He lead them to the Hall, where many chairs were drawn to a circular table. He sat down and indicated that they should do the same. Snaga and Faramir half-pushed a frightened-looking Tarel into a chair, and sat down one on either side. Earil sat by the King, and Celebros resignedly sat behind him, staring at the table, uncomfortably aware of his grandfather's eyes burning into his skull. After a moment, the King began to speak, and Celebros liked it even less than silence. He didn't address any of them - he just spoke. He spoke as if to all of them or none of them. Earil glanced at Faramir, but the Steward's eyes were only on the King. Celebros didn't hear a word of it - his mind was a sort of haze. I tried to kill him. I tried to kill. I would have killed a man if they had not stopped me in time. He didn't know how much time passed, just that it was long, but when he finally looked up, he realized that the room was empty except for he and the King. He looked back at the table, staring at his hands trembling there, and heard his grandfather move into the chair Earil had occupied. He had a strange feeling that they had been sitting in silence now a very long time. He felt the King's hand under his chin, pushing it up, and very unwillingly looked up into the deep eyes. There was a very long silence, and Celebros sat frozen for what seemed like an eternity. Then King Elessar withdrew his hand and turned away, his shoulders shaking silently. For the first time, Celebros found the strength to ask his grandfather a question. 'Eldarion,' he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 'Is he...' 'He's healing. He'll be fine.' It was a stiff, sharp voice that the King was using. There was another silence, and then he continued. 'But dear Elbereth, Celebros, you could have thought about what you were doing first.' 'I thought I knew. I...' 'Do you have any idea what we went through here?' His voice was a deadly whisper. 'Do you have any idea what you did to us - with Eldarion almost dying, you had to add that to everything - you had to - Elbereth, I don't even know how to put this.' Celebros wanted to run, to turn and run. His grandfather's voice - his kind, understanding grandfather - was harsh and rough and angry. And suddenly Celebros understood. He opened his mouth, but he was cut off. 'Gwalas and Cundariel and Tasarian wanted to talk to you. They are in the third garden. Since you didn't seem to care very much about what I had to say before, I assume you missed what I told you all. You will all report here at nine.' Celebros didn't move. Then, after a moment, he rose and walked from the room. He did not, however, head toward the third garden, but instead toward the aviary. If Eldarion was alive, he needed to tell him some things. He needed to...to do something, Elbereth burn it! The aviary was close to empty. Atop the fifth-tallest tower in the city, there were very few messagehawks to start off with, and most were being used in frantic attempts to find out if their families had been killed in Methnan. Celebros felt a shift of guilt - what if by doing this, he was preventing someone from doing just that - but he took the smallest hawk he could find, letting it perch on his shoulder, and went to his own rooms. It felt decidedly empty there, and cold. He wondered vaguely where Earil was, and decided to find out as soon as he'd sent the hawk. He sat at his desk, brushing dust off of his things, and poised his loaded quill over a sheet of clean paper. Dear Eldarion, he wrote...  
  
'Each of you undoubtedly has your own story,' Faramir said, standing and leaning against the table, both palms flat. The King sat at the other end, silent, not seeming to make eye contact with anyone. 'You will tell them one at a time to the King and I. Understood? We will not tell any of the others what you have said, nor will we pass judgement until we have heard every side. You first.' He indicated Tarel, who stood silently and sullenly and followed the Steward and the King into the corner. Earil leaned across the table to Celebros, who was staring at it as if it held all the secrets of Middle-Earth. 'Tell him the truth,' he whispered. 'Don't try nobility - sacrificing yourself - tell the truth.' 'He'll know if I don't,' Celebros murmered. 'He sees it in the eyes. I can't -' He cut off, shaking his head. 'He'd know.' Hours seemed to pass as Tarel told his side, glancing over to the others, who Snaga was watching intently. Once or twice he gestured, or seemed to get angry, but mostly he just nodded as he spoke. Dareth was next, and his story was not quite as long. He motioned almost wildly toward the table, looking fearful, and finally fell silent for a while before returning. Both Rothin and Luc's stories were extremely short. They seemed to think an awful lot and talk very little, indicating their noses. Celebros didn't notice - he was staring at the table still. Earil went next, and Celebros noticed that he gestured very little, talking in a quiet, sober voice, glancing his way several times. Faramir watched Earil's eyes adamantly, unmoving. King Elessar nodded slowly. Then Earil muttered something to him, and he stood and walked over to where Faramir and his grandfather waited. It seemed to take hours to get there - he felt as if he were made of lead, or as if he was dreaming, walking and never getting closer. But then he was sitting in the chair, gripping the arms so tightly that he could feel them being imprinted in his skin. 'I stole the horse and the sword the same day as my father died, that night, when the streets were empty. I left immediately after I left here the next morning. I went first to the spot where Tarel had attacked, finding the horse's tracks and following them. When I found the band...I sat for a few minutes and watched them, until Tarel saw me and asked me who I was and what I wanted. I said I wished to join them.' Celebros was aware that his voice was quiet and flat, and almost winced. He glanced at the table, where Earil was looking intently at them. 'They were amazed by my swordfighting abilities. I fought Earil - he was the only one who I did not instantly hate - and won. He and I talked. After a long time, he confronted me. He knew that I was...' A lump rose in his throat, and he continued slowly. '...that I was the son of the man they had attacked. He told me he wouldn't tell Tarel. I told him things, after he guessed. He said he admired me, because I was good. After Tarel saw Marilen and said that we should kill her, I said I thought it would inspire more fear if we captured her, making her think that we would kill her and then letting her escape, making it look like an accident. They agreed. I went to lure her to them. I told her to trust me, but didn't tell her who I was. They caught her. I let her go on my guard that night, asking her to send Gwalas a message...' Celebros opened his eyes, not remembering having shut them. Faramir nodded to show that it had been received. 'She said she was sorry, and guessed who I was, and said that Elfwine was rumored to have sent an antidote, but I suppse she saw that I didn't understand. She told me about Eldarion. 'I watched them, I don't know for how long, and Tarel watched me - perhaps Earil too, if for different reasons. I trusted Earil to some extent, with my life if not with my true purpose, although I know he must have guessed it. He had told me he had never killed, although he had stood by while others did, and that he never planned to kill. 'When I decided it was time, I attacked...I had my blade raised to kill Tarel when Faramir grabbed my arm from behind. I don't remember what was going through my head. All I wanted was to kill, and then to die. When he grabbed my hand, I dropped my sword. I realized what I had almost done...what I had been about to do...but I didn't want to come back here. Even if I didn't want to kill, I wanted to die. I thought Eldarion was already dead. I didn't want to come back. Earil persuaded me not to run. I had to tell the truth to you. He couldn't...' Celebros found the lump in his throat, and could not continue. There was a silence, in which the King and Faramir glanced at each other, eyes strange. Then Faramir nodded, looking back. 'Go back to the table, Celebros,' he said quietly. 'We need to decide.'  
  
'I don't know. I don't know.' The King was shaking his head, back and forth. 'I don't know.' 'From what the others say, Tarel has killed more than fifteen people. He's the one who organized almost all of the killings on the Fields.' 'I know. He and those other three - I already know about them. They're all murderers. But Earil, and Celebros...' 'I know. I don't know how to do this. Earil isn't innocent, but he hasn't killed, and he isn't evil.' 'He isn't wholly good, and he isn't even remotely evil. Tarel doesn't seem to like him.' 'I can't say for Earil. I can't decide that. We were children together. He was the first child, aside from Boromir, that I ever knew. Father didn't like him. I don't know why. We would sneak into the City to play when Boromir was in his lessons. He moved when he was fourteen, and I didn't see him until you were crowned again. I thought he was dead.' 'What about Celebros?' 'I don't know, King Elessar. I couldn't judge him. I could never...I...' 'I don't know how we can possibly do this.'  
  
'Tarel Nenelya, Luc Mithurin, Dareth Lachel, and Rothin Rileni. You are, from this day forth, to be considered prisoners of Gondor. The four of you are sentenced to life in the prisons of Minas Tirith. 'Earil Eanar and Celebros Telcontar. You are sentenced to three years of confinement. You are both forbidden to leave Minas Tirith until the three years are up and the King accepts that you have paid your price. Any violation of this sentence will bring you subject to resentencing. Is this understood?' 'Yes.' All six of them said it, four glaring at the other two. Earil set a hand on Celebros' shoulder. Both their faces were impassive. Both realized that they were getting the easy way out.  
  
Dear Eldarion,  
  
I don't know how much you've heard of what happened, and what I did. I've heard very little, having only returned to the City yesterday. I tried to write earlier, but found myself unable to. Now I have been sentenced. I was lucky, as was Earil. Both of us deserved worse than what we got, which happens to be three years confinement in the City - unless, your father tells me, I'm instructed to leave on duty. I suppose that in a way I've been made a guard of the City, without watch duty or the like. Not allowed to leave without the lord's permission. I feel guilty - I don't know whether I should. Tarel, the man who killed my father and countless others, and the other three have been sentenced to life in prison. They had all killed before, but Earil stood by, and I was about to kill. I would have killed, had Faramir not stopped me at the last possible instant. I hope that you and Aeargil and the men are doing well. I heard about your ordeal, to some degree. Have Aeargil give my regards to Tarmamethnan and Lorgan and all the rest - or do so yourself. I am glad you are well. Love, Celebros Ithilron Telcontar Caladinsson  
  
He watched the messagehawk fly out the window into the night, and turned back to face his three Elven friends. Gwalas, Cundariel, and Tasarian were all there, looking mildly annoyed in two cases and completely impassive in one - Cundariel being the one, and understanding his desire to finish his letter before talking to them. Again, however, their conversation was stalled by a knock at the door. 'Come in,' Celebros called, his face sober. Earil opened the door a bit. 'I'll come later,' he said at seeing the three, but now a look of annoyance crossed Celebros' face. 'I said come in,' he insisted. Earil shrugged and sat in the last empty chair. 'Earil, this is Gwalas, Cundariel, and Tasarian.' Each nodded politely. 'Now, to business,' Gwalas said after a moment's silence. 'Celebros, you're going to talk, and if you stop talking before you've finished you will find yourself in quite a predicament.'  
  
Eldarion handed the letter to Aeargil so that she could read it as well, his face strange. He sighed, and turned his head slightly. 'Greetings from Celebros,' he said to the rest of the family. Lorgan smiled faintly, and Silmarien glanced at him. Aeargil made an indistinct sound and handed the letter back to Eldarion. He took it carefully, and without wincing. It still hurt to move his arm or neck or the like, but not near as much. 'I'm sure he's fine,' she whispered. 'Yes,' Eldarion agreed flatly. He gestured to indicate that Lorgan and Tarmamethnan could read the letter too, if they wished. Lorgan took it, and handed it first to his father. Tarmamethnan nodded gravely as he read it, and gave it back to his eldest son. 'Celebros has a good heart,' the King said quietly. 'He may hurt, for a time, but he will be all right.' Eldarion nodded dimly. 'He always is,' he whispered.  
  
It was three days after the letter arrived in Methnan that Eldarion started to walk again. It was an extraordinary feat, after weeks and weeks of being unable to. He couldn't go far, or for long, and he stumbled a good deal, but he could do it with little pain. It took a lot of effort, and he would often fall asleep rather soon afterwards, but it made Aeargil a good deal happier, and it seemed to cheer up Eldarion as well.  
  
Celebros, meanwhile, was growing rather restless. He shouldn't have been bother about being forbidden to leave the City, but three years seemed like a very long time. He rarely left the City as it was, except orc-hunting, of course, or trips to Ithilien, and he had visited Edoras once...but it was the fact that he wasn't able to even if he had wanted to that bothered him. Earil visited virtually every day, often as not bringing along Cundariel or Gwalas - Tasarian would also come occasionally, but Earil seemed to unnerve him somewhat. The most significant visitor he had in the two weeks following his sentencing, however, was the King. King Elessar came one evening twelve days after, and Celebros let him in with some surprise. It had been years since the King had visited him in his apartment. Most of the time, if he was wanted, he would be called to the Hall. Celebros stood a bit stiffly and uncertainly, face emotionless, as the King sat down in a spare chair, looking into the flickering flames a moment before speaking. 'You don't have to stand.' Celebros didn't move, just stood there almost wilfully. A pained expression flickered across his grandfather's face. 'Please, Celebros. Sit.' It was an order. He did. 'I wanted to talk to you.' Go ahead, Celebros thought to himself, not sure why he was doing this. I deserved all I got and more - why do I feel this resentment? 'That sword.' The King gestured to it. Celebros was wearing it, despite the fact he wouldn't have to use it for at least three years, in all likelihood. 'How much do you know about it?' 'What do you mean?' 'About its history,' King Elessar pressed, staring Celebros hard in the eyes. Celebros shifted in his chair, unable to pull his gaze away. There was something unnerving about the way his grandfather was looking at him, something dead solemn. 'Just that it was made in the north, and given to my great-great-great- great grandfather.' My father's father's father's father's father's father. His name was Corel, and he was a innkeeper. He married a half- Elven woman whom he met in his travels, in Imladris, and received the sword soon after. He gave it to his son before he died on a hunting trip, and told him to give it to his son, and to pass it along father to son for all the ages. Celebros thought the rest of this to himself, but did not say it out loud. 'An Elven smith of Mirkwood, when it was still called that,' the King said quietly, 'forged it in secret. His family had been killed by orcs, and he had been injured. He could no longer fight well, or shoot a bow, but planned to do his best and die that way. He made it with precision and care, carving in last the words and the sun. He meant by it that what he was doing was something he hated, and he hoped that the sun would rise after his death on a better world, and that he would have changed it for the better somehow. He knew that peace was the way, and that killing lead only to more killing, and added the words, barely understanding himself what they meant. Three years he worked on this blade, Celebros. Three long years he perfected it. And then he went into the wild. 'Corel - yes, you do know who that is - found him dying near the mountains. A hunting party of orcs and Wargs had come onto him, and he had not fought them. The blade remained in its sheath, untarnished by their black blood. The Elf had been taken for dead, his blood pooling around him, but he had somehow managed to climb to his feet and start off towards Imladris. Thus Corel found him - given up, bleeding to death. He told your ancestor his sad story, and Corel wept with him, and he gave to this strange Man his sword, this thing that was three years of his life, and told him never to use it, only to take it, and pass it on saying the same. 'The Elf died then, and Corel remembered his words. He brought the body to Imladris, and Lord Elrond had it buried. I saw the grave. It is unmarked, with a headstone bearing the same words as are marked on that sword. They did not know his name. 'Corel returned to his inn in this City with his wife, who was with child. He named his son Er-Teldagor, meaning, as I'm certain you know, roughly one ending battle or one last battle. He taught his child the importance of peace. 'One day, when Er-Teldagor was almost of age, Corel gave him the blade and left Minas Tirith forever. His body was found apparently unmarked in the Greywood. It is not known what the manner of his death was, for Corel was not an old man, or ill. He was very sad, for most of his life, because he knew that he could not end war. He never did use that blade against any living creature, and told his son to do the same. 'Er-Teldagor married and had six children. His oldest, a son, was not a peaceful child, despite his father's vain attempts to teach him the pointlessness of death and war. When Er-Teldagor was dying, he asked the second-oldest son to come to his bedside and take the blade, to be passed on to his son when the time came. This child was only fifteen years old, and his name was Elisil. 'Such a fit of rage took the oldest son that he tried to kill Elisil. The younger boy unsheathed the blade, telling his brother to stay back. The older leapt forward, and Elisil, terrified, moved his arms too late to protect himself. The eldest boy was impaled upon the moving blade. It was the first blood the sword had ever tasted. 'But the older brother did not die. He learned his lesson, however, and refused the blade. He married, and taught his son the meaning of peace, and died. Elisil too married, and had three sons and two daughters, but when he died he insisted his sword go to his older brother's eldest son, and his own children did not disagree. 'This child, Echelir, passed the blade carelessly on to his son Mardin, who knew the meaning of peace well, but he did not insist on it remaining unused, and Mardin, who became a Guard, killed orcs and more with it. He fought under me, your grandfather, in the War of the Ring. He was a young man, and naieve. He lived through them unmarked, but the blade was stained with blood, and it was only five years before his death and when his son Caladin was ten years that he found the family's story and the tale of the blade. He was horrified at what he had done, and did not tell his boy of the story, knowing how Caladin revered tradition and would be appalled at the breaking of such a sacred one. He moved the files to the libraries of the City, where I found them. 'Caladin took the blade at his father's death, and used it for many things. He did not understand what he was doing, and thought rather that he was doing honor to such an important heirloom by using it for his purposes. Not knowing of the history, and knowing that his son was not so eager to become a Guard, he did not teach him as Mardin had also neglected to. He insisted that his boy know the carving. He would give it to his child when he died, he decided. 'But when he was killed on the border, the sword was taken. His son, furious at the murderers, followed them, and planned to avenge his father and take the sword. He joined them, to find out which had done the killing, and when he did, he was only just stopped in time from killing again with the blade.' The silence in the room thickened. Celebros looked to the King's eyes suddenly young and horrified, as Elisil perhaps once was when he realized what he had almost done. He drew the blade slowly and stared at it, holding it in both hands. He slid his left hand on up the blade, mouthing the translation silently, not even noticing when he drew a line of red blood across his palm with it. He looked up at the King, eyes shocked. 'Now, you know,' King Elessar said softly. He reached in silence across to lay a hand on the shoulder of his frozen grandson. Celebros stared unseeingly at the same place - at emptiness. 'Take it to heart, Celebros, my boy. Don't forget it. And one day, tell that story to your son. All of it.' He rose, standing a moment by Celebros, hand still on his shoulder. Then he removed it and walked from the room. The door shut quietly behind him, leaving Celebros absolutely frozen.  
  
Eldarion returned to the City two weeks later at the head of a force four- fifths that which had left Gondor. Celebros, not being allowed beyond the gate, stood silently amidst a loud and large crowd right near it. He didn't fight his way to the front, or to the back. He stood, letting himself be jostled by the other people. There were hundreds there, waiting for husbands and brothers and sons and fathers. Several were simply there hoping that the message they had received had been a mistake, and that one of their family had not truly been torn from their midst. Earil pushed his way through to his friend. 'Well, you're in a right cheerful mood,' the man observed dryly. 'They said that Lorgan was coming too,' Celebros said in a strangled voice. 'They said for a while, at least.' 'What about his daughter?' 'No, just him. Aeargil too, of course, and Eldarion, and two Methnan guards who will accompany Lorgan back whenever he returns. Elos and Aros.' 'They're close,' Earil observed. The crowd was cheering and chanting incomprehensibly. Celebros shook his head, silent. 'What's wrong with you, Celebros?' his friend asked abruptly. 'You've been acting strangely for about two weeks now.' 'Nothing. Nothing, I'm fine.' Celebros looked suddenly nervous. The gates opened, and the cheers faded slightly. A long, thin, and ragged line of men came. At the head were three tall figures. All the men were filthy, but these three looked much more so. Lorgan, flanked by Elos and Aros. And Eldarion and Aeargil were behind them. Both looked very tired. Eldarion was pale beneath the dirt, and very thin. Aeargil also seemed to be slimmer. They passed through the gates in a sudden quiet, and then the noise started again. It seemed louder than before. Roars and cries went up. Celebros winced. 'Something is wrong!' Earil insisted, having to nearly scream in Celebros' ear to be heard. 'It's not too difficult to see that, mellon nin. Be careful. Have you been drinking?' 'A bit,' Celebros yelled back. Earil laughed, although Celebros couldn't hear it. 'Not too much. A couple glasses.' Earil shook his head. 'Three!' Celebros screamed. 'It was only three glasses! I swear it!' 'On what?' Earil asked, still laughing. 'On Elbereth's good name, and my father's!' 'All right! Just three!' Earil roared. 'Come on! We'll lose your Eldarion otherwise!' They fought their way through the crowd, Earil ahead, until he felt a sharp rap on his shoulder. 'Here!' Celebros shouted. 'Shortcut!' He indicated a very narrow alleyway and ducked into it before Earil could respond. Sighing, he followed. Before long they could talk in regularly-toned voices, getting farther away from the crowd. Celebros was running. 'We'll never catch up if we walk!' he insisted. 'We had to go quite a bit out of the way to find a clear path, remember!' 'Yes, my friend.'  
  
Eldarion finally found a good place to dismount and stable his horse, and indicated that Aeargil, Lorgan, Elos, and Aros should do the same. They did, and Eldarion insisted on brushing down his horse himself and giving it water before leaving. By the time that was done, most of the men had passed and were stabling their own steeds. Eldarion sighed. 'Wonder where Father is,' he muttered to Aeargil. Lorgan jumped and started to laugh from behind them. Eldarion turned around. A strange, dark-haired man who he had never seen before was standing and grinning there, and Celebros was next to him, shaking his head in amusement. Eldarion looked at his nephew searchingly. Celebros was still looking at the dark-haired man. There was something strange, something wrong about them both. There was an air of something that Eldarion most decidedly disliked. 'And who is your charming friend?' Lorgan asked dryly. 'Oh!' Celebros said, glancing up as if he hadn't remembered precisely who he was with. 'This is Earil. Earil, this is Lorgan, Aeargil, Elos, Aros, and Eldarion.' Celebros paused. 'I'd say which was which, except I'm certain I'd get Elos and Aros mixed up again.' Elos grinned. 'That is Aros, I'm Elos, this charming young man is Prince Lorgan, that charming less young man is Prince Eldarion, and that charming lady is Princess Aeargil.' Eldarion frowned, and attempted not to laugh, at the "less young" note. Earil did not contain his amusement. Celebros didn't even seem to notice it. He stood a bit stiffly off to the side, looking decidedly out. Eldarion couldn't put a finger on what was wrong. 'You'll have to excuse the Lord Celebros for his lack of mirth,' Earil said rather pompously. 'He swore to me that it was only three.' 'Glasses or bottles?' Lorgan asked. Ah, Eldarion thought rather worridly. That's what it is. He's drunk. 'Glasses,' Celebros said, glaring at Earil. 'Big glasses,' Earil added helpfully. 'Really big glasses.' 'You never had a sense of humor before we got sentenced,' Celebros noted in a peculiar tone of voice. 'You were always extremely solemn. It's almost as if you're having more fun now.' 'Well, before we were sentenced, I still thought I had to find out what I was going to write on my prison walls that would occupy me for the rest of my life.' Earil looked a bit sheepishly at Eldarion, who thought to himself, Why does Celebros get along with this man so well? Was this one of the men who stood by while his father was killed? He found out later, of course, that Earil was a very likable man who had simply made awful choices, and had Faramir and his father and Celebros reassure him that the man was not a bad fellow.  
  
Several days after Eldarion's return, Tasarian realized that he had not seen Celebros for a while and decided to remedy that. He knocked on the door of the apartment. There was no answer for a moment, and then someone called, 'C'min.' He did so. Celebros was lying back on his bed, hands folded under his head, staring up at the ceiling with a look of content on his face. Immediately, Tasarian realized something seemed off about the young Man. 'Hello, Tasarian. How are things this fine, fine afternoon? Lovely day.' Celebros smiled in a very strange way. Tasarian narrowed his eyebrows at the young man. Yes, there was definitely something off about him. 'Why are you looking at me like that?' Celebros demanded, sitting up. 'Hm.' He looked faintly pale, and touched his head as if he were dizzy. 'Have you been drinking?' Tasarian asked quietly, with a touch of amusement. 'No,' Celebros said, shaking his head vigorously for a moment, then groaning. 'Well...yes. But that isn't relevant.' 'How much wine did you have?' 'The bottles are over there.' Celebros pointed into the other room, lying back on his bed, utterly failing to maintain any shred of dignity by almost giggling. 'Bottles? As in more than one?' 'Seven and one-half, to be precise.' Celebros, looking oddly proud, grinned awkwardly. Tasarian stood and walked into the other room. 'Looks like eight and a half from here,' he called, recounting the bottles. 'Oh, someone else drank the other one,' Celebros said vaguely, waving his hand. 'Who?' 'Someone. Doesn't matter.' 'You're just trying to make me think you drank one less. You're completely drunk.' 'Are not, and am not.' 'Celebros...' 'If I'm admitting to drinking more than seven, wouldn't you think I'd admit to drinking more than eight? You get to a certain point and it doesn't matter. And anyway, that was this morning. I'm fine now...' Tasarian puzzled over this a moment. 'Then who was it?' 'Don't remember,' Celebros said ruminatively. 'Could've been anyone, really. Who wasn't around?' 'I didn't see anyone - I was with the Guards. Start listing people it could have been.' 'Cundariel. Gwalas. Faramir. Snaga. Earil. Eldarion. King Elessar.' Tasarian almost spluttered at this, but Celebros wasn't done yet. 'Elos. Aros. Lorgan. My mother. Aunt Rillien or Tariel. Aeargil. Pernathos. You.' 'All right, I get it, you really don't know.' Celebros looked a bit disappointed that he had been stopped. 'Although I rather doubt that Aeargil would be stupid enough to drink a bottle of wine, things being how they are. Might harm the baby.' 'Yeah,' Celebros said offhandedly. 'It wasn't you, either, was it?' 'No,' Tasarian said flatly. 'And Snaga and Faramir left this morning for Ithilien, early.' 'I said it was this morning.' 'You are very, very drunk.' 'Seven and one-half.' 'I'm going to get Eldarion.' 'It might have been him.' 'Elbereth, I hope not. Aeargil would throw a fit.' 'It could have been the King.' 'You aren't drunk enough to really believe that, Celebros. I said I was going to get Eldarion, and I mean it. Just be lucky I'm not getting Gwalas. He'd give you one of his horrible concoctions to sober you up.' 'How do you know that that kind tastes horrible?' Celebros asked with a mischevous grin. 'Has he ever given you one?' Tasarian chose to ignore that question, leaving Celebros laughing.  
  
'Eldarion, Celebros is drunk.' 'Oh, Elbereth save us, not again.' 'He's done this before?' 'Last time it was three whole bottles. Don't you remember when he didn't turn up for dinner that time and I went to fetch him?' 'Well, he's done it again.' 'How many this time?' 'He says seven and a half, but it looks like it might have been eight and a half. There's nine bottles, one of them half-full. He says it was someone else drank the eighth one. He couldn't tell me who.' 'Sweet Elbereth! That much could kill him! It must not have been strong at all, if he's still able to talk. I bet the eighth was Earil, if it was anyone. That man is a bad influence.' 'I disagree. He doesn't discourage Celebros from doing things, but he listens. You know how Celebros is - he doesn't like to tell people things, but he's told Earil some, at least. More than he's told me. I couldn't say about you, but still...' 'He doesn't tell me much. He thinks I overreact.' 'He thinks right,' Tasarian muttered. Eldarion chose to ignore that comment, if he heard it. 'We'd better get Gwalas, too,' he sighed. Tasarian grinned a bit wickedly. 'Have you ever had one of those things he gives you when you drink too much? Nasty, they are. Gives you an awful headache.' 'I've had to have it a couple times, actually,' Eldarion admitted. 'Last year, and before that.' 'Once or twice, myself,' Tasarian said. 'I never usually drink much, but I have a couple times, and I've resolved never to again while Gwalas is around. Cundariel always calls him up. She worries about me far too much.' 'Well, she has reason,' Eldarion said quietly. 'What's that supposed to mean?' 'It's supposed to mean that she worried about you for thirty years, and she's still used to it,' Eldarion replied, voice quiet still but sharper. Tasarian sighed. 'Yes, I know,' he said simply. 'I'll get Gwalas, and you go make sure Celebros doesn't try to fly or something.'  
  
Eldarion did not bother to knock at Celebros' door. His nephew, however, was not trying to fly. He was asleep, his face pillowed with one hand, the other stretched out almost lazily. His face was peaceful - more peaceful than Eldarion could remember seeing it for years. Since the Galadil, at least. He looked younger, and more quiet, more innocent. Eldarion closed his eyes breifly. When he opened them, though, he saw the scars again, and wanted to scream. Why did they haunt him so much? Why, in these rare moments of peace, did he have to remember everything? A cruel voice spoke inside his head. Look at that on his neck, Eldarion. On his face. On his arm. Those are your fault. You were too slow, too selfish, too weak. He suffered that for you, to help you. He said so himself, not even realizing how much you would suffer for those words. I'm shattered, because you think that I would betray you. You don't believe that I would endure years of torture and a slow and painful death to save you. You think I'm not sane. You don't believe me, you question my credibility, after what I've gone through to save you. What I've gone through to save you he had said, although it was only in Eldarion's mind that the 'you' was emphasized. That hurt, Celebros, and I'm glad you don't know how much. I'm glad you were honest, because I deserve that pain. You did it for me. You shouldn't have. You didn't deserve that. I would sooner have them kill me and spare you what you went through, even if you wouldn't yourself. I couldn't have held up under that torture, he knew. I would have caved into it eventually. I would have lost my mind. I would have betrayed you, Celebros. I would have killed you. What am I saying? What am I thinking? Eldarion's mind roared. He walked slowly over and knelt beside Celebros' bed. 'Who are you, and who am I?' he asked the sleeping form. 'Do you know?' I don't, he added to himself. I thought once that I did. I thought I knew everything. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. When my father told me... he thought, and then said it out loud. 'When my father told me there was an assassin in the City, and he was looking for you, I was confused. I didn't know how someone could want to hurt you. You were young then. You were seventeen, and naieve sometimes. You were still innocent, in your own ways, although solemn, and mature. I could see it in your eyes. And when you were blind, I wanted to give you my eyes. When you were dying, I wanted to trade with you. I always thought that I would be the first one to die. But I've thought again. Maybe I thought wrong. You're wanted by so many people, Celebros. And you're half-Man. Not even Numenorean Man, just Man, from your father. I have Elven blood too, twice as much as you do, and twice as much Numenorean, and I can expect, if I die of age, to live to more than three hundred. But you, Celebros - you can't. I hope I never see you die. I hope that I die before you do. Because I couldn't live after that. I wouldn't care about duty, about what I needed to do for the Kingdom. I would die. Or I would want to.' Eldarion hesitated. He had almost forgotten where he was. He looked back at the sleeping form of Celebros. 'I could never be as strong as you, Celebros. I could never be as strong or as good or as quick. I will never understand how you have done what you have done, and there is nothing I can ever say that will be apology enough for what you went through.' There was a knock on the door, and Eldarion started. 'Come in,' he called. Gwalas, looking extraordinarily perturbed, and Tasarian, looking almost amused, came in as instructed. 'Ah,' Gwalas said. 'He is asleep, then. I don't know whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.' 'Well, I think it's lucky for him,' Tasarian said, glaring at the other Elf. 'He won't have to drink that awful stuff.' 'The taste is punishment for drinking too much,' Gwalas muttered. 'Technically, I could make one that tastes like honey. But I do not and I will not, unless, of course, I decide that I feel like having more than three glasses of potent wine.' Tasarian glared even more. 'You mean that taste is really just -' 'It tastes different for everyone,' interrupted Gwalas, 'because I can't give some people some things.' Eldarion shifted and looked back at Celebros. What Gwalas meant, he knew, was I can't give Celebros durthond. He knew that taste, the bitterness and foulness of it, and knew that if Celebros ever tasted it again, he would be instantly addicted again. Why Gwalas gave anyone durthond was beyond him - partly because of the taste, of course, and partly because it had some healing powers. It would not be in Gwalas' nature to add something simply as punishment because it tasted bad. 'Well, if Tasarian was telling the truth and it was really seven and a half bottles, I'm leaving this here,' Gwalas said, setting the copper cup he was holding down on Celebros' bedside table. 'He'll need it.'  
  
In the dream, the mist seemed complete, and so did King Elessar's despair. After he woke, he didn't understand it - things had been righted, things had been wrapped up. Celebros was back, if depressed - he had heard about the seven-and-a-half incident, or overheard about, rather. Eldarion was better - still weak, still tired, and he saw it, but that would improve. Aeargil seemed all right, in any case - she worried incessantly about everything, and Eldarion worried over her. Don't, Aeargil, he would say. Please don't. There's no point, and besides, the baby. Lorgan was not at all how the King had imagined him - he was quieter, more like Celebros, and sadder. It was wrong for someone as young as he was to be sad. He was more like Celebros than anyone else seemed to realize. He had the same hurt, the same ache in his eyes - green eyes, sharp and full of emotion. You could read his thoughts by staring at them - they smiled and laughed alone, without any sign of amusement touching his mouth, and they screamed and sobbed when the rest of Lorgan's face was smooth. So much like Celebros, the King thought. So much like my grandson that it frightens me. For his sake.  
  
The day was bright, and Celebros sat watching it from his chair. A full and unopened bottle of wine sat on his bedside table. His sword belt was not around his waist - the end could be seen dangling from the chest at the end of his bed. Once every half hour or so, he would stand and pace, open the chest to see the glimmering sun on the unsheated blade, and sit again. A knock came on the door. Celebros sighed and decided to ignore it. No one today, he decided - not Eldarion, not Earil, not Gwalas, not the King himself. It came again, more loudly. Celebros sighed. 'Go 'way,' he said, probably not loud enough. He didn't care. There was another knock, and then silence. It sounded like pure gold, if gold sounded at all.  
  
'I feel,' Gwalas declared, throwing down his quill in aggravation, 'like hacking that boy to pieces.' 'He didn't pretend not to be there, at least,' Tasarian observed, looking up from his fingers, which were dancing around as if they had minds of their own. 'Earil, you said he said to go away?' 'Go 'way,' Earil said, imitating Celebros' voice - a deliberate, soft groan. 'What, dear Tasarian, in Elbereth's name are you doing?' 'Game I used to play,' Tasarian said abruptly, letting his fingers slow and stop. 'Why so quiet, Eldarion?' 'Why so quiet, Eldarion?' Eldarion mimed. 'Because I feel like it!' 'Have you been at the wine stores?' Gwalas asked, frowning. 'No!' 'I suppose you feel like it too, Lorgan,' Earil said in a faked cheery voice. Lorgan nodded mutely from his corner. He seemed to be doing nothing at all - Eldarion at least was moving, shifting in his armchair, looking at them as they spoke. Lorgan simply sat, looking at nothing, seeming not to even be there. He was wearing his hair rather oddly - pulled back from his eyes with a dark leather band. He looked pensieve - but almost relaxed, languid. 'Tasarian, you're doing it again!' Earil complained. He looked utterly lazy, stretched unconcernedly out in his chair. For the moment, he sounded for all the world like a three-year-old. 'Knock it off, Earil!' Eldarion grumbled. 'I'm thinking. Valar help us all from fools!' 'You know, before Celebros and I got along, I called him a fool,' Earil said thoughtfully, scratching his chin and taking a swig from the bottle sitting next to him. Gwalas was eying it in an odd way. At his words, even Lorgan looked up, and Eldarion glared. Tasarian stopped his finger- game, and Gwalas straightened. 'What did he do?' Tasarian said after a very long and silent moment. 'He beat me up thoroughly in a swordfight,' Earil answered, his face brightening, his voice suddenly very happy. 'Then he told me he was no fool, and he was not a child. I'd called him a child too. Did I already say that?' 'No,' Gwalas said offhandedly, looking back at his paper and quill and ink slightly distastefully, as if each was some sort of repulsive toadstool that smelled dreadful if touched or turned skin blue. 'Earil, that is not "just water",' Eldarion said. 'Is too.' Gwalas stood abruptly, snatched the bottle, and drained it. 'Oh,' he said, eyes unfocusing. 'Not water.' The others stared at him. Lorgan then made an indistinct sound in his throat and went back to staring at nothing.  
  
Celebros felt like kicking something. But preferably something soft. His foot already hurt from kicking other things.  
  
'Father?' Silence. 'Father?' A pause. 'Elfwine. Yes?' 'Father, something's wrong.' 'With what?' 'You - and Malgalad.' Another silence. 'Father -' 'Malgalad tells me that you sent antidote to Methnan.' 'Yes, of course.' 'You did not think you needed to consult with me first?' Silence from Elfwine this time. 'You think you are somehow above these - oh!' 'Father, are you all right!?' Eomer groaned. Then, 'Yes. Yes. I am fine. I apologize. Of course. You didn't need to ask to - oh! My head...I am sorry. I feel...strange. Call Malgalad for me, Elfwine.' Elfwine was silent and still a moment, then he bowed. 'Yes, Father, Your Majesty,' he said, unable to conceal bitter resentment in his voice. His father did not seem to notice or care.  
  
Celebros stared resentfully at the still-full bottle of wine. What will ONE LOUSY GLASS hurt? he wondered. What is just one? An awful lot, imbecile, a voice in his head said. It sounded very much like Earil. Oh, dear Elbereth, I am tired. I had better sleep. He stumbed over his bed and fell into dark dreams of mists and despairs that seemed to consume him.  
  
The King Elessar was not sleeping, as one should be at half past three. He had been, indeed. But his sleep had been restless. He had had the dream about the mist again, and woken drenched in cold sweat. He had fallen asleep again then, and dreamed of very strange things indeed, things he did not understand. Three people, two males and one female, two small and one larger. They were speaking, but nothing came from their mouths. They were pale, and thin, and dead-looking, but he could not see their faces except for the little girl. She had shoulder-length, slightly curly silver-blond hair and eyes that hurt to look at. She was so small, with so much knowledge and pain. The three figures were familiar and yet not at all so. The tall male - not a boy, but a young man - stood tall and still, except he had an arm curled protectively around each of the children's shoulders, as if they were all in great danger, and he wanted to save them. A fourth figure seemed to be there sometimes, but not as wholly as the other three. He was taller than the children, but still young. His form looked like smoke, or congealing dust, or a shadow, and it flickered. For most of the dream, he was gone altogether, and the rest he was barely there at all. His skin was darker, and once the King thought he caught a flash of black eyes. It was impossible to tell. The strange thing was that they just stood there, image slightly dimmed as the dream went on, as if they were fading, or were never real - which, he had to remind himself, they more than likely weren't. It was just a dream. But nothing seemed to have been just a dream recently. When he woke from that, he felt strangely cold and empty, as if something had been taken away. He felt he could sleep no longer. Come out of the shadows, Elessar, he chastised himself. Come out of hiding and show your face. His eyelids flickered and closed, and he fell once more into sleep in the hard chair.  
  
A man, lean and muscular, running ahead through the fog. A voice, from an unknown source, singing in gently Sindarin words that the King did not bother to listen to. A feeling, haunting, like mirrors and daggers and cloaks. What does that mean? he wondered, but no answer came, just the music, and he began to follow the man ahead, who showed no signs of slowing. 'Help me!' a voice screamed from behind - a woman's voice, a young woman, innocent and terrified. The running man did not so much as turn or flinch. The King hesitated and did the same, starting to run faster, but the figure kept going farther into the fog, getting farther and father away. 'Wait!' he shouted, but his voice was lost in the singing and another scream from behind. 'Help me, please! No, no, no, stop!' A terrible sense of wrongness came over him, and he started to slow. The figure vanished ahead of him, too far ahead, and he felt a wrenching in his chest. He had lost. The music grew mournful and wailing came from behind him. He whirled. There was a girl standing there, silent - young, perhaps fourteen, with black, straight hair and dark blue eyes. She was silent. Behind her was a void, a black emptiness. She stood on the very edge, staring at him with unnaturally wide eyes. The wailing from the blackness stopped suddenly. 'Who are you?' he asked the girl. 'I am,' she said, and smiled. 'I am.' 'What? You are - what?' 'I am, and shall be, all that does not happen, and all that you would have not happen. All that causes pain, all that might or shall or would. I am.' 'This is only a dream.' He felt a sudden need to say that, to reassure himself, perhaps, he didn't know. But the girl threw back her head, tossing her hair over her slim shoulders, and laughed. It was a cold, merciless, empty, terrible sound that did not fit her at all. It belonged to something evil - something awful. 'How long can you run, Aragorn?' He started. It had been years, so many years since he had been called that name. The girl's voice was different, deeper, menacing, rumbling with power and disgust. 'How long can you hide, King of Men? How long can you hide in the shadows before facing what he is?' 'What do you mean?' he whispered. He felt suddenly young and powerless. The face of the girl rippled, and the hair became shorter, although still long, and dark brown, and the shape grew, and towered, and the eyes melted into the coldest brown he had ever seen. 'I am the Eldurhir,' a rumbling, laughing voice said, shaking him to his very bones with its loud harshness. 'And I will win, Aragorn son of Arathorn, because you are a Man and he is not what you think.' A sound of running footsteps came from behind him. He whirled, and -  
  
In Minas Tirith, in Gondor, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the King Elessar, woke with a start in a cold wooden chair. 


	5. Epilogue to Trilogy I

Epilogue  
  
Elfwine would watch his father more carefully over the next years. Many things would happen, although their relevance might be questionable to some. Two Halflings arrived in Edoras, and somehow jarred their friend the King from his long sleep under the command of Malgalad. He would leave with his friends, and depart to Minas Tirith, and Elfwine would touch the circlet on his head and weep bitterly as he watched the three figures ride from Edoras for the last time. Eomer refused to return until his death, but that was not long after his departure. Elfwine was a good King for Rohan, and kept Malgalad as an adviser, to even his own surprise; to watch, he said to himself, to see if he slips. But Galadon did not slip, not for a long time, and I will tell of that. Malgalad was careful with this one, and he would wait a long time before giving the King very serious advice on matters that Elfwine felt critical. Celebros visited the King and became very close to him - they were friends for a very long time, and this would come in handy - to both of them, and it would save at least one of their lives. As for Eldarion, he and Aeargil lived in Methnan for more than nine years, and when they returned to the City they had two children, Vildir and Elenya. Celebros did not spend the years without danger and injury. It simply slowed down for a while. There were orc-attacks, and there was a time when he was caught by bandits on his way south and roughed up a while before he finally got his hands on his sword and rounded them up. The Kingdom received increasingly unnerving silence from their sources in the North, save Methnan. The flow of Elves to the Sea had slowed to a trickle. Still, news was rare and cherished. There were no skirmishes with the Galadil, and the Eldurhir'rim too were silent. Unbeknowest to anyone, Galadon, from Rohan, had sent instructions for this. If you had not already assumed this, and puzzled over it, the Galadil had an alliance with the forces of Mount Gundabad. Gondor did not know of it, and Methnan'rim suspected it, but still the silence grew thicker, and the storm waited on the horizon. Cundariel and Tasarian left to visit their father in Greenwood one year, and did not return for some time. Believe if you will that I have disposed of them for now, but in truth, they will return. The second trilogy of the Heirs of the King will include the following elements, trivial in some cases, and quite the opposite in others. A broken arrow, peppered ham, a cave, a cocked eyebrow, Pernathos, the Houses of Healing, a necklace pendant, cinnamon tea, a very thick book, and a sketch of Celebros will all at some point in time enter into the fourth story. In other books, terrible things will happen to Aeargil's rarely- mentioned neice, and wonderful things also. Celebros will flat-out refuse to be in love with someone he is in love with, and will become extraordinarily paranoid. Eldarion will have more than one sudden urge to slap certain stubborn nephews. There will be an enormous battle. Gwalas will pretend to be angry at Eldarion, and Eldarion will be depressed and ecstatic, at intervals. The King will be enormously worried about all three of his grandchildren. We will at last get a conversation with the King's youngest daughters. The Galadil will take someone other than Celebros prisoner. People will be killed, stabbed, and shot at. Many more Elves, including Gwalas' brother and Aeros, will be introduced or reintroduced. Eldir will return, if breifly. Elessar will get very angry and punch something, accomplishing only excruciating pain in his foot, and he will get very angry and punch someone, accomplishing a sense of satisfaction and a thoroughly broken nose - not, I might add, his own. All this and more in the next three books! The fourth one, since you were about to ask, is called Betrayal, the fifth Stairways to Death, and the sixth and perhaps final is Revelation. 


	6. Intermission: Celebros, Twelve

It never occured to Eldarion that Celebros was still having trouble at home. He never complained, and hadn't been coming every day. It never occured to him that the days when his nephew didn't come were days that Caladin forbade him to. It never occured to him that Celebros was only home when he had absolutely no alternative. Then one afternoon when Eldarion was working in the library, the boy came in, silently as always, nearly scaring the wits out of the Prince when he turned to find Celebros there. Celebros leapt back. 'Sorry!' he cried, softly so as not to attract attention. Distress shone in his eyes. 'It's okay,' Eldarion said, slightly surprised. This happened at least once a week, and usually Celebros just looked sheepish. He gave his nephew a look-over, looking him straight in the eye. Then his eyes wandered a bit. 'Celebros...' he said slowly, shocked, 'what happened?' 'Nothing,' the boy said quickly, looking nervous. He covered up the thing that had made Eldarion start with both small, nimble hands. A livid bruise covered almost all of his right cheek. Most of it was shapeless, but Eldarion could see two finger marks. It had looked like just shadows at first. Celebros was looking at him with wide, fearful eyes. He didn't press it.  
  
'Father?' 'Eldarion. How are you?' 'It isn't me I'm worried about, Father.' 'What seems to be wrong?' Eldarion hesitated. 'Celebros came to talk to me today, and he - there was an awful bruise across most of his cheek. There were fingerprints in it, and it was his right cheek, so whoever did it was left-handed.' The King bit his lip, not looking at his son. 'You think it was Caladin,' he said quietly after a moment. His voice was miserable and tormented. 'No, I know it was Caladin.' 'What did Celebros say?' 'He wouldn't talk about it. He looked frightened. I didn't push it. He's twelve years old, for Elbereth's sake! I wouldn't want to talk about it either, if...' King Elessar shuddered slightly. 'I would never...' he tried to say. 'You know I...' 'But Caladin would, and I know that too. Celebros has been to see me a lot recently. Morgoth take Caladin! I tried to tell Malgil -' 'It was her choice. He promised her more than he could give, and she believed him.' Eldarion's face twisted. 'Then Morgoth take her too.' The King was silent a moment, looking at Eldarion with measuring eyes. Eldarion sighed, feeling tears in his eyes. 'I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, but I just...I don't want him to have to endure that. I think that -' 


	7. Book Four: Betrayal

The streets were crowded, and Elenya was clutching his hand tight, but Eldarion felt quite out-of-place. Vildir strode ahead of him, gazing wide- eyed at the towers and pinnacles and all the people in the streets.  
  
The people were talking excitedly. Eldarion recognized very few of them; it had after all been a long time.  
  
Aeargil had stopped trying to keep up with their eldest and was instead holding Elenya's other hand and speaking soft Sindarin to her. Eldarion could understand it if he tried, but he was instead staring at the buildings and trying to recognize the people. Was he a stranger here now?  
  
Something caught his eye, and he searched again through the faces of the people in the crowd. He released Elenya's hand. 'I'll catch up,' he reassured Aeargil. 'Go ahead -'  
  
She smiled and nodded, then continued calming little Elenya.  
  
Eldarion made his way toward the crowd and cut through the excited people. 'Welcome back, Prince Eldarion!' one man shouted.  
  
He stopped in front of the young man who stood quiet and smiled. Then he pulled him into a hug which was tightly returned.  
  
'It's been to long,' Eldarion said quietly. Celebros pulled back, his face sober.  
  
'It's been ten years,' his nephew said quietly.  
  
'I know,' Eldarion sighed. 'I just...we couldn't travel with the children until they were old enough, and -'  
  
'It's all right,' Celebros said, and peered over to where Aeargil and the children still cut thorugh the crowd.  
  
'Is that Vildir?' he asked after a moment. Eldarion smiled and nodded.  
  
'He's gotten big...'  
  
'Well, he is nine.'  
  
'Yes, but I haven't seen him since he was - what, two weeks?'  
  
'Three. But close enough. He loves it here already. It's Elenya we have to worry about. She doesn't like people. She's always been very antisocial. She likes to play in the woods more. Or the caves...Vildir and she go out every day into the forest. Once, last year, they got lost. Oh, we were worried sick. But we found them the next morning in the caves in the valley-bluffs...they'd gone too far and couldn't find their way back in the dark, and they were cold, so they just found a cave. The next month we went there, and wandered around in it...'  
  
'I remember when I was ten and you took me into the caves in Ithilien,' Celebros said, smiling. 'We got lost...you'd better catch up, you're going to lose them in the crowd.'  
  
'You coming?'  
  
'Not yet, I have to meet Snaga. He left the City for almost a year, you know, and pretended to go back to the orcs...we've almost killed them all. We have to worry more about bandits, these days...Rohan especially. You'd better go...your father wants to see you. I'll meet you.'  
  
Eldarion nodded and slipped away into the crowd. It took him a few minutes to catch up to Aeargil and Elenya. Vildir was with them again, and Eldarion picked him up and set him on his shoulders. Vildir laughed in delight. 'I can see the world from here!' he cried. Aeargil smiled and clutched Eldarion's shoulder with her free hand, pulling him closer so she could whisper in his ear.  
  
'I'm glad we're back.'  
  
+++++  
  
The King tried to hide his apprehension, but was unable to; he tapped his foot on the floor, and his eyes darted around. He could hear the shouts outside. Eldarion was home. He was going to see Eldarion...and the children...and Aeargil...  
  
The door opened slowly, almost hesitantly, and a boy with dark, uncertain eyes and golden-brown hair walked in. The King caught his breath. The boy looked uncertainly around. The room must be rather intimidating, the King reminded himself. The whole city must be. And this is Vildir. Elbereth. He looks so much like Eldarion...so much like his father had as a child...  
  
'Vildir?' he asked, standing and walking to the door where the boy stood looking uneasy. Vildir nodded quickly.  
  
'Are you...the King?' the boy asked. His voice was soft and smooth. King Elessar nodded.  
  
'I've been waiting a long time to meet you,' he said. The boy nodded, relaxing more.  
  
'I've wanted to meet you for ever and ever - Father told me all about you. Did you really used to be a Ranger? Is there really a nice orc here? Everything's so big. Father and Mother and Elenya will be here in a minute - I ran ahead of them. There are so many people. I don't know if Elenya likes it. She likes quiet things, but I think it's nice here.'  
  
The King smiled. Celebros would like this boy.  
  
'Do you want to come sit down?' he asked, and Vildir nodded again. He followed his grandfather to the table and sat down, a bit uncertain again.  
  
The door opened once more and Aeargil led a little girl in by the hand, whispering to her encouragingly. And behind them was Eldarion.  
  
The King wanted to stand and meet his son, but he didn't seem to be able to. It had, after all, been nine years.  
  
Eldarion stood for a moment in the door, looking around the huge room and then looking to his father and his son already sitting in a too-big chair. He walked slowly in, closing the door behind him and staring around. He reached the table after what seemed an eternity. Aeargil and Elenya sat, Elenya between her older brother and her mother. Eldarion put his hand on Vildir's shoulder, and for a moment, there was complete silence.  
  
Then the King stood slowly, and Eldarion embraced him. 'It's good to see you again, my boy,' King Elessar whispered.  
  
'You too,' Eldarion returned. 'I've missed this place, and everyone...' He pulled back. 'I saw Celebros on my way here, briefly. How's Mother?'  
  
'She's fine...she insisted that I meet you here first. Celebros has missed you, I think perhaps more than even I have. He doesn't really connect with Malgil, not even after... oh, well. And ever since the incident with the Galadil, of course, he hasn't been the same. He's been changing more and more. And Aeargil, it's good to see you too, and in good health...and Elenya and Vildir.'  
  
Aeargil nodded her head. Vildir smiled, and Elenya shrank into her seat. Aeargil started to reproach her, again in Sindarin, but the King shook his head, indicating it was all right.  
  
'The City seems bigger than I remember it being,' Aeargil said, smiling. 'More magnificent.'  
  
'Methnan has got towers, but they're pretty small compared to the ones here. But it's got woods all around,' Vildir said eagerly.  
  
'There's woods here too,' Elenya said quietly. Her voice was like gentle silk, and so young. 'I saw them. Just not as close.'  
  
'You can't go into the woods here, though,' Eldarion warned his children. 'They're dangerous.'  
  
'Not like at home,' Aeargil added. 'Bad things live there.'  
  
'I met a big bad thing in our woods once,' Elenya muttered resentfully.  
  
'We,' Vildir insisted. Elenya ignored him - she seemed to dislike saying 'we'.  
  
'A baby bear,' Eldarion muttered to his father.  
  
'Yeah, but we were right near home,' Vildir pointed out. 'We could just run back. The woods are too far away here.'  
  
'Even on a horse?' Elenya asked.  
  
'Even on a horse,' Eldarion told her. To his father he added, 'Elenya loves horses. Vildir does too, but he likes riding them more than Elenya. She just likes spending time in the stables at Methnan. Vildir - he's a lot like Celebros, really. Just more talkative, more active.'  
  
The King nodded. Suddenly he felt strange, as if either something was missing or something was whole. It was a feeling of ... detachment. As if either now he was one again and wouldn't have to stretch over so much emptiness to think of his family, or like something was missing and he was seperated from it.  
  
+++++  
  
'It's really been like this ever since Cundariel left,' Celebros said slowly. 'She and Tasarian went back to Eryn Lasgalen in August of 68. I miss her a lot - I just took her company for granted, I guess. She'd been missing her parents - I think her mother's dead, but her father still lives in the Woodland Realm. Can't blame her, really. I miss my father.'  
  
'Listen, Celebros, about that...I've been wanting to apologize for a long time. I should have been here.'  
  
Celebros shook his head. 'It's all right. I think I sort of came to a point in the road, a few years back, where it split into two. One was the path of bitterness and hate and revenge, and the other was acceptance of the past and forgiveness and looking to the future, and I accepted and continued on. I acted terrible to everyone in that time myself. I...I almost killed those Men, Eldarion. I would have, if Faramir and Snaga hadn't come just in time.'  
  
'My father told me about what happened,' Eldarion said, nodding, now sober. 'But that was years ago. You can't change it.'  
  
'And then there's Eomer's death,' Celebros said, a strange look coming across his face. 'After everything he did...oh, but the two Halflings came to the City. Merry and Pippin. They were strange, the two of them, but then they died as well...your father was very unhappy for months. I'm glad I got to meet them, though...taught me a few things, and told some old stories about the Shire, and the Ents.'  
  
'I met the two of them once,' Eldarion said, smiling distantly, 'very breifly, when you were about two years old. They played around with you a bit, and talked to Father for a long time - made him laugh and cry. Made him remember things he had forgotten. They talked about so many things I didn't understand. What else has happened? Where are all the others?'  
  
'Snaga and Pernathos are both here - Pernathos isn't a Guard anymore, and he and Snaga are always out adventuring. They ran into some bandits last month -' A dark, closed expression crossed Celebros' face. 'But they got away all right. Gwalas is in Ithilien right now, but he'll be back in a few days.'  
  
Eldarion was silent, looking at his feet for a moment. Then he asked quietly, 'Celebros, are you - are you all right?'  
  
A pronounced closed look came into Celebros' eyes. There was a silence, and Eldarion's gaze became pained and desperate. Then Celebros sighed.  
  
'I think I'm okay, actually,' he said softly. 'It's been a couple years since anything's happened to me. It's not over, because they aren't gone. But I - I just remember these things. They're with me all the time - every time I look in one of those long mirrors in the halls, I see the scars. Some of them, I don't even remember which they're from. I tried wearing a scarf - the ones on my neck are the worst to remember - but it was only covering it up. Everyone knew why, and it didn't help at all. But overall...overall, I think I'm all right. There was Earil's death, and that was... I don't know, but I imagine it would be like if you lost one of the children, or Aeargil. It's been two years since my skirmishes with the orcs in the Greywood, and that wasn't too bad. Three years before that, of course, was my trip to the south, when I got roughed up by those bandits, but that wasn't as bad as anything either. Two years before that was the fever I got - we still don't know what triggered that. Then everything before that - my father and Tarel, and Eldir -' A strange shiver seemed to run through Celebros, but he didn't seem to notice, just took a shuddering breath and continued calmly. '- and Galadon, and Tahir, and then the orcs before that. That's about everything. It's done with, for now. It's not as bad anymore. No assassination attempts for quite a while.' He laughed a bit eerily, letting it fade into a chuckle and a very unsettling smile.  
  
'Come meet the children,' Eldarion said after a silence, standing up suddenly from his chair. 'Vildir's been dying to meet you.'  
  
'All right,' Celebros said slowly, and stood himself, following Eldarion from his room.  
  
+++++  
  
'Father?' someone called from the other room as Celebros and Eldarion entered. The first room was very dimly lit. Vildir emerged from the second one, and stopped, his eyes widening. Celebros smiled faintly.  
  
'Awfully quiet around here,' Eldarion called out loudly. Elenya emerged silently behind Vildir, and had a strange reaction. The way her eyes widened was not the same. The emotion was not the same.  
  
Then Aeargil came out from the other room as well, and hurried over to greet the two of them. While she hugged Celebros - it had, after all, been ten years - Eldarion approached his silent, staring children.  
  
Vildir came back to life, grinning as his mother released Celebros and starting forward, a bit uncertainly.  
  
'Hello, Vildir,' Celebros said, smiling.  
  
'Hi,' Vildir replied, slightly breathlessly. 'I mean -'  
  
'Don't babble,' Eldarion ordered with a grin.  
  
'Yes, Father,' Vildir replied. 'I won't babble.' He looked back at Celebros, awed. 'You look just like the picture! Father said you did, but I thought you might be a bit different.'  
  
'Picture?' Celebros said, puzzled. Aeargil smiled.  
  
'Vildir wanted to know what you looked like, so I drew him a picture. It took me a long time to get it right, but I finally did. You can see it later, if you'd like.'  
  
Celebros smiled and nodded. 'Are you disappointed that I'm not a bit different, Vildir?'  
  
Vildir looked at him as if he was crazy. 'No!' he laughed. 'I thought the picture was perfect. I wanted you to be just the same. And you are! Isn't he, El?'  
  
'Yes,' Elenya said, smiling quietly, looking at Celebros with a peculiar look in her eyes. 'Perfect.'  
  
'Well,' Celebros said, smiling quietly, 'I think you two are perfect too.'  
  
+++++  
  
'What do you think of him?' Eldarion asked the children. The two of them were snuggled in their respective new beds, having their nightly talk with their father.  
  
'He's nice,' Elenya said softly. Eldarion was startled. From Elenya, if she thought someone was nice - it was a definite improvement. As a general rule, El didn't like people. As if to contradict his thoughts, she added, 'I like him. He's good.'  
  
'He's great,' Vildir agreed, eyes sparkling. 'He's awesome. But Father, I didn't want to mention this with him there, but there was a difference between the picture and him. He's got that strange scar on his neck.'  
  
'I'm glad you didn't say anything, Vildir. Don't mention it to him, please. He was hurt, a long time ago, and he doesn't like remembering it. I'm glad you two like him. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't get along.' Vildir almost laughed. He obviously couldn't imagine not getting along with his cousin.  
  
'How old is he?' the boy asked suddenly.  
  
'Twenty-nine,' Eldarion answered promptly.  
  
'Wow,' Vildir breathed.  
  
'And now,' his father said mock-sternly. 'If there isn't anything else, then it's bedtime.'  
  
'It's past bedtime,' Vildir said almost proudly. 'And that's not my fault, nor El's.'  
  
+++++  
  
How terrible, Vildir thought as his father sang Elven to put Elenya to sleep, to live without a father.  
  
He couldn't imagine Father being gone - he couldn't imagine living without him, or Elenya, or Mother, any more than he could imagine living without happiness, or without breathing.  
  
'Good night, elen,' Father said to Elenya, 'and good night, Vildir. Be elhini for now, and sleep on your talans in the silence of the trees.'  
  
'G'night, Father.'  
  
'Good night, Father.'  
  
Then the light was turned out, and Vildir was left trying to imagine empty worlds.  
  
After a very long time, his uneasy thoughts drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.  
  
The same could not be said for his younger sister.  
  
+++++  
  
She was a quite child, little Elenya, and often a sad one. She had short, slightly curled silver-gold hair, light as an Elf's, very much like the rest of her. She had enormous blue eyes, and her face was often dirty, although it never seemed to be.  
  
But she was mature and shrewd and quick as any other person in the City. She was what any parent could wish for in a child, except that she was quiet, and not so playful, and painfully shy. But she never disobeyed, and seldom complained, as so many children do near to constantly.  
  
She understood things that many older children could not, and sometimes that Eldarion and Aeargil wished she could not - things like hatred, and pain, and war, and death, and lies, and despair, and evil. She had never really had the same kind of innocence of other children. She had the wide- eyed years of running through the woods and back home, and hugging her father, and kissing her mother's cheek, and shaking with her blanket when she was afraid. But she had never had the same kind of ignorance that children had, before they understood... because Elenya Telcontar had always understood. Sometimes, her father thought that she understood more than he did.  
  
The thought frightened him.  
  
+++++  
  
Dawn came cold and silent and crystalline, breaking the autumn night- darkness to fragments.  
  
Eldarion watched it from the window. The only reality he felt was the wood of the windowframe under his fingers. I'm home, he thought to himself. I've been gone so long, and now I'm home again.  
  
The cloud of silver dust that hung over the horizon was gradually stained in colors of gold and blood.  
  
The night was over.  
  
+++++  
  
'Good morning, elen darling.'  
  
'Good morning, Father.'  
  
'Is that brother of yours up yet?'  
  
'Yes, Father. He's trying to fasten his cloak.'  
  
'Is he planning on going somewhere already?'  
  
'He wanted to go down to the gardens before breakfast.'  
  
Eldarion stuck his head into the children's room. 'Vildir! Are you sure you don't want breakfast first? I could just call one of the servants.'  
  
Vildir smiled a bit. 'Yes, Father. I won't be gone long. I want to go to the gardens we saw, and maybe -'  
  
'You are not going anywhere near the stables, Vildir,' his mother's voice called. 'Not without someone with you.'  
  
'El will come.'  
  
'Someone older.'  
  
'Mother!'  
  
'The horses in Methnan are trained differently, young man, and I will not have you breaking something on your first full day in Minas Tirith.'  
  
Elenya cocked her head silently. 'Can I come with to the gardens?'  
  
'Ask Father if it's all right, El.'  
  
'Father -'  
  
'I suppose. You keep him in line, El. Not a step into the stables! And I do notice, Vildir, that you think you can go out without asking.'  
  
Vildir sighed and walked over to his little sister. 'Can you get this clasp?' he asked pleadingly, holding out his small black cloak and a silver clasp curled into the shape of an Elven V.  
  
'Where in Elbereth's name did you get that?' Eldarion asked as Elenya reached up and fastened it in no time at all. 'Those special-made ones are expensive.'  
  
'Well, I am a prince-in-training now in two different kingdoms - I'm very well thought of now, you know.' Vildir smirked. Elenya looked slightly distastefully at her brother.  
  
'Celebros gave it to him,' she told her father, who was looking in exasperation at his son.  
  
'Ah - giving gifts without asking me first now, is he?' Eldarion said dryly. 'What'd you get, El?'  
  
Elenya carefully pulled from under her shirt a silver chain. On the end was a bronze-and-gold pendant shaped like a moon and a star.  
  
Eldarion raised his inner eyebrows. 'It looks lovely, Elenya. Why don't you wear it on the outside?'  
  
Elenya glanced at him and shrugged, tucking it back underneath her shirt. 'C'mon,' Vildir said, grinning. 'Let's go out.'  
  
The two children exchanged meaningful looks. Vildir pulled the door open. 'We'll be back in a while,' he said, and ducked out.  
  
Eldarion sighed. Those two were up to something; he was sure of it.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros woke late, which was unusual for him, and got up in a hurry, muttering an oath, which was also not ordinary.  
  
Barely a minute after he had dressed and washed, there was a knock on the door. Now who is that, he wondered? His heart sank. Earil, his first thought had been. He sighed. He'd had very few visitors since Earil had died two months before. Snaga had come twice, and Gwalas right before he left for Ithilien. Perhaps it is Gwalas. He said in his last message he'd be back any day now.  
  
He pulled open the door. Oh! he thought, feeling instantly stupid.  
  
Elenya and Vildir were standing there, Vildir giggling madly, Elenya smiling a bit.  
  
'We,' Elenya said quietly, 'need your help.'  
  
'Will it get me in trouble with your father?'  
  
'Quite possibly,' Vildir said, and started giggling again.  
  
'Come in,' Celebros said, smiling. 'I see you're wearing that clasp, Vildir. I'd wondered if you'd be able to get it on. I forgot to mention how difficult it is to fasten.'  
  
'He didn't,' Elenya said quietly. 'I did. He couldn't.' She smiled, and Vildir giggled again.  
  
'What mischeif are you into now?'  
  
'Well, you see, Father and Mother said we couldn't go near the stables alone...'  
  
'I need exact words,' Celebros said solemnly, standing and pacing the room.  
  
'Not without someone with you. Someone older. Not a step into the stables!' Elenya said.  
  
'Hm. That first part sounds fairly eludible.'  
  
'Yes. We came immediately.'  
  
'But the second part is pretty specific.'  
  
Vildir groaned.  
  
'We may just have to outright disobey it.'  
  
The children looked at each other in sheer glee.  
  
'I hear you two like horses.'  
  
'Love them, more like!' Vildir said, grinning. 'I had a pony in Methnan, and I could ride a horse if Father was there. Grandfather said I was really good at it!'  
  
'I just like them,' Elenya said. 'I like feeding them and brushing them and watching them. I like riding them too, but I can't do it without Father either.'  
  
'You rode Marin without asking me once,' Vildir pointed out. Celebros assumed Marin was the pony. 'I wish I could've brought him. Silmarien's taking care of him for now. She's our cousin.'  
  
'I'm related to her too,' Celebros pointed out. 'If only by marriage. I never got to meet her, though. I've only been to Methnan once, and she was gone then.'  
  
'On one of her adventures,' Elenya said, nodding.  
  
'Uncle Lorgan told us about when you came,' Vildir said. A shadow crossed Elenya's face as well as Celebros'. The older man nodded.  
  
'Very well then. To the stables.' He took Elenya's hand with one of his and Vildir's in his other. The children smiled, looking at each other with significance in their eyes.  
  
+++++  
  
'Do you have a horse?'  
  
'Two, as a matter of fact,' Celebros said. 'I had three, but Windscream died.'  
  
'Windscream - oh!'  
  
'Don't tell me you've heard about Windscream.'  
  
'Of course!'  
  
'Your father has too much time on his hands if he's told you about my horse - no, not even mine. The one that I stole.'  
  
'We heard about everything,' Vildir said, not entirely truthfully. 'Well - lots of things, anyway,' he amended at Elenya's reproachful glare.  
  
Celebros smiled. 'You're lucky you haven't heard about everything,' he said quietly, and the smile faltered. 'Lucky. Everything is hard, you two, remember that. Everything isn't all goodness and light. Don't let these years get away from you. You, Elenya, need to lighten up some. Smile!' She did, a true smile, and Celebros did too. 'You need to have fun! I remember when I was a boy, I thought it would last for long enough to do some of nothing. It ended a lot sooner than I thought. When I was sixteen, I went on my first orc-hunt, all by myself in the Greywood...' He started to tell them a small part of the story. They didn't notice anymore where they were going, and Celebros didn't stop telling it when he saw a red-haired Elf approaching from down the street.  
  
'...and I am going to stop here for a moment, if you don't mind. I think you've heard of Gwalas?'  
  
The children looked up. Vildir's face lit up, and Elenya smiled again.  
  
Celebros embraced his friend breifly. 'The minature Lord and Lady have arrived,' he announced. 'This is the Lord Vildir of Gondor and Methnan, and the Lady Elenya of the same.'  
  
Gwalas bowed, hand on his chest. 'M'lords and lady, may I enquire as to where you might be going?'  
  
'Shhh,' Celebros whispered. 'It's a secret. I am causing mischeif. Vildir and Elenya and I are going to the stables, even though we ought not.'  
  
Gwalas looked with slight puzzlement at him. 'Have you been in trouble again?'  
  
'No, it's them that aren't allowed.'  
  
'Well, I want to go have a talk with Eldarion. I can stall him for a very long time, if you want.'  
  
'Hmmm,' Celebros said. 'How long do you think we need, Elenya?'  
  
Elenya pulled away from Gwalas a bit. 'As long as you can,' she said quietly. Gwalas smiled.  
  
'All right. I'll be going, in that case. Good to see you three!'  
  
Celebros nodded, and Vildir waved a bit, looking extremely impressed. He looked back up at his cousin. 'C'mon!' he laughed.  
  
+++++  
  
'Gwalas! How are you, my old friend?'  
  
'Old? Who in the world are you calling old? I'm not the one with children!'  
  
'You, my good Elf, are seven hundred fifty-two.'  
  
'Three,' Gwalas muttered. 'Seven hundred fifty-three. And in any case, Legolas is about three thousand and showing no sign of tiring.'  
  
Eldarion waved his hand dismissively. 'What's it matter?'  
  
Gwalas shook his head wryly and clasped Eldarion's shoulder. 'Good to have you back, Prince.'  
  
Eldarion smiled, but sobered quickly. 'Is Celebros as all right as he seems?'  
  
'No,' Gwalas said quietly. 'He made up his mind months ago to pretend to be all right when you came. When Earil died. He's not going to get over that for a long time. You know how close the two of them were. It was an odd friendship, to be sure. But Earil kept him laughing. He broke, at the burial. He turned and walked away in the middle of the song. He was crying too hard to hear much of it, I think. He didn't want you to be worried. But he frightens me, Eldarion, he really does. I didn't want to leave, but your father promised he'd keep an eye on Celebros for me while I was at Ithilien. Legolas has taken over since Faramir died, at least until Telmir - Faramir and Eowyn's very young son, if you'll remember - is old enough. He needed help. They had a situation there. But we resolved it, and it's better now, if not perfect. I saw the children.'  
  
'In the gardens?'  
  
Gwalas very carefully avoided the question. 'They looked like they were having a good time.' Eldarion nodded, smiling a bit and not seeming to notice. His face crumpled a bit then.  
  
'I had hoped...' he murmered. '...maybe he wouldn't try to fool me. I wish he wouldn't. Well, I'm glad I found out sooner rather than later. How bad is it?'  
  
'Not good.' Gwalas sighed, looking at Eldarion with a strange expression. He didn't want to have to say this. 'He really does frighten me. He's constantly on the edge - he's mostly stopped drinking now, but he explodes in an instant. He's getting a bit paranoid. He always thinks that there's someone there. I finally persuaded him to stop carrying daggers around in his sleeves last year. It's catching up to him, Eldarion. It really is.'  
  
Eldarion looked away for a moment, and Gwalas pulled his dark blue cloak tighter about himself, as if the September day had been colder than average instead of the opposite.  
  
'It's been so long since Eldir, and that was the worst, and I thought maybe...I don't know.' Eldarion looked over at Gwalas, who didn't meet his eye. 'I still have these horrible nightmares about that instant, Gwalas. That instant when I thought he was dead. But they don't turn out the same way. None of them turn out the way it did.'  
  
Gwalas nodded. 'I know exactly what you mean.' There was something fervent and awful and pained about the way he said exactly.  
  
'I remember everything,' Eldarion said after a moment. 'I remember every expression on his face. I remember the looks in his eyes, until there was no look at all, and then when the hopelessness came, and then the expression when his sight came back. I was so afraid, mellon nin. I was so afraid that I was going to lose him. I was afraid of what was happening. I was afraid of if something worse happened. But the most awful thing is that the only thing I could think of sometimes was this. What's happening right now. I was afraid I would lose him like this. He looked happy, last night, with the children. Then they went to bed, and I saw before he left the look in his eyes that told me he was far away.'  
  
Gwalas nodded. 'I remember some things with such excruciating detail that sometimes I wonder whether I dreamed it all. You know how sometimes strange things strike you about a dream - like the color of the sky, or the height of a hill, or the slowness of an ant? Then, it was the feeling that radiated off him. He felt like a wounded dog, Eldarion, like a pet. He was meek and obedient and hurt, and most of all he was afraid. Every bit of the fight was inside. He wouldn't let us see his pain until we couldn't help him.'  
  
'I didn't feel that,' Eldarion said faintly. 'I didn't feel a fight at all. I didn't think there was one.'  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir and Elenya took a very long time with Celebros' horse, which he didn't mind at all. It was good to see them play, to see their smiles, and to know that there was someone in the world who was good and who was happy.  
  
It was almost noon before they left, and Vildir looked a bit worried. 'We told Father we'd be back for breakfast.'  
  
'You could come have it in my rooms, and tell him you had it with me.'  
  
'Well, all right.'  
  
Elenya had a strange, faraway smile on her face. 'Wonder what Father and Gwalas are talking about,' Vildir said ruminatively.  
  
'Important things, no doubt,' Celebros said with a shrug, pushing open the door to his room.  
  
+++++  
  
'I am NOT afraid of the dark!'  
  
Gwalas shook his head wryly. The mood from before had faded, and they had started talking about good times instead. They had each other laughing before long.  
  
'Well,' the Prince said, 'when he was about ten, he and I went to Ithilien. We went exploring in the caves and got hopelessly lost. We were in there for three days, actually. I kept saying we should go one way, but he was adamant on going the other. He was right - we met Faramir on the third day. They had two different parties out looking for us, and I had to tell them we'd just gotten lost, and Celebros had led me out. Father started to laugh when I told him. He'd been afraid that we'd gone farther than we were supposed to and run into orcs or something.'  
  
Gwalas laughed. 'Well, about four years ago, Celebros and Earil were playing some kind of game that Tasarian had taught them in the library. I came in, and they were just sitting there, Earil with his hands pressed against the table, Celebros staring from one hand to the other. Apparently it was one that Tasarian invented himself when he was in prison. He had thirty years, alone. He isn't as changed as you'd think someone would be, after that. They tried to explain it to me, but I kept getting details mixed up. Tasarian taught them a lot of things like that. Got them all laughing, some of them. I understood a few, and some were downright disobedient and devilish. Once they tried to take fifty books each from the Great Library without the librarians noticing. They did notice, of course, and had a fit reshelving them all. They got them all from the least-used parts. Victims of the Spiders of Morgoth and One Hundred Lost Creatures of the North and Theoretical Uses of Unassuming Creatures from the Sea of Rhun and that kind of rubbish. Things no one's needed to use for centuries, so they didn't know where they went. Earil followed them around for the next two days as they tried to put them back, and when they finally thought they'd found the place, he'd tell them where he had gotten it. Celebros gave up on it after a couple hours, but Earil kept at it.' Gwalas sighed. 'Earil gave us all some good laughs...'  
  
'I wish I had gotten to know him more,' Eldarion said quietly. 'I don't know why we didn't wait until Vildir was older.'  
  
'If he was older, he wouldn't have adjusted to Methnan. These days, it seems, the safety is ironically enough in the North.'  
  
'Now that Galadon has apparently left.'  
  
'Every sign says that he left years ago, after the run-in with Celebros and I and the rest.' Gwalas paused. 'He's writing something, by the way. Celebros, I mean, of course. A history of what happened, perhaps. He was asking me for details as to what I remembered after that, and he spent a long time in the Library. Either that, or he's trying to puzzle Galadon out, which I think is beyond him.'  
  
Eldarion had no chance to reply, because just then a knock came at the door. He gave Gwalas a meaningful look. 'The children,' he mouthed, and went to the door to open it.  
  
Celebros was standing there, looking a bit grim, but Vildir and Elenya were far from it. The two of them were smiling, Vildir practically leaping.  
  
'Well, it looks like you two missed breakfast.'  
  
'They had it with me,' Celebros said. 'I'll be going, then. See you all later.' Without another word, he turned and strode off. Eldarion looked after him long enough to see him reach up and touch the back of his neck.  
  
+++++  
  
Afternoon had come and gone without event, and the formal family dinner in honor of the reuniting of the family was approaching. Eldarion had asked Aeargil to deal with the children, and decided to pay his nephew a visit.  
  
He knocked at the door. There was a silence, and then, 'Come in,' Celebros' voice said.  
  
Eldarion opened the door. Celebros was lying on his stomach on the bed, scribbling something furiously on a sheet of parchment. He looked up when Eldarion came in, nodded to himself, and looked back at the paper, rereading what he had written.  
  
'Are you coming to the dinner?'  
  
Celebros looked up, a bit surprised, and indicated his swordbelt and clothing. He was wearing his finest, and sheathed on the belt was his heirloom sword.  
  
'You never wear that,' Eldarion said, startled.  
  
'It's tradition. I looked it up in the Library - the extended history of my family. My grandfather on my father's side wrote the entire history. I haven't even touched it for more than nine years - since Vildir's birth, I think.'  
  
Eldarion watched Celebros turn back to the paper, muttering to himself once in a while.  
  
'Your neck still hurts you,' he accused after a few moments of this. Celebros looked up again, his face sober.  
  
'No,' he said quietly. 'My memory does.'  
  
Eldarion winced. 'Promise me it doesn't still hurt.'  
  
'Physically? I promise.'  
  
He sighed, looking with pity and memory at Celebros. Then he turned to leave. At the door, he added, 'Dinner's in half an hour.' Celebros nodded, and Eldarion closed the door after him.  
  
+++++  
  
The first part of the dinner went without event. Eldarion talked to Gwalas in an undertone for most of it, until the time came for the speeches. There were apparently four to be made - his own, his father's, Celebros', and Vildir's. He hadn't known beforehand that Vildir would be making one, but the boy had apparently asked the King if he could, so it was fine.  
  
Celebros had perhaps on purpose seated himself as far away from Eldarion's family and the King and Queen as possible, sitting instead by Snaga. Both of them seemed content on not talking. Eldarion glanced once in a while at Celebros. It appeared that what he had been writing earlier was in fact his speech.  
  
The dinner was outdoors, and much of the City was gathered around. Eldarion was surprised at the turnout, but his parents didn't seem to be.  
  
The food was excellent, but he didn't eat as much of it as he normally would have. He was thinking about the look in Celebros' eyes. The memory.  
  
His father stood, and a silence fell gradually over the crowd. 'Today,' the King said, 'is a very fine day for us all to be gathered again. The days are dark, and to us have been returned gifts. We have been gathered before, in these past nine years, but always a part has been missing, a section of our people quieter, feeling for those who were not here. The Prince of our lands has returned, bringing with him jewels greater than the earth. His beautiful wife, Aeargil, is also with us tonight, and his two children, Vildir, whose eyes gazed on the City as an infant, and Elenya, who had never seen it before. My heart is gladdened at their return, and the darkness may perhaps let up for a while. Eldarion.' The King's eyes smiled as they fell on his son. 'You are all welcome here always.'  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion stood next, after the talking had spread again. He looked over the quieting people. Celebros was watching him with at least mild interest, Gwalas from next to him was smiling slightly. In Vildir and Elenya's eyes was awe, and both looked at their father in startlement. They had never seen him as a Prince before.  
  
'These years have been filled with joy for me. I have watched my children grow, and learned of the peace of the woods. But a sense of missing was constantly with me. I was at peace, and I was happy, but I knew that I could never stay that way until I returned. I loved Methnan more than I can express through words, but this has always been and will always be my home.  
  
'Perhaps my wife and children and I have returned to Minas Tirith. But my family was always here, in spirit and heart if nothing else. Through the tales we tell to our children will spring their lives and dreams.'  
  
+++++  
  
The clapping came again, and then the talking, and it seemed that both Celebros and Vildir were contemplating something. At last their eyes met, and Celebros raised his head slightly as if to say, Go ahead. Vildir stood, and watched in amazement as the people quieted as they had for the King and the Prince.  
  
'I always imagined this City as being a place of magnificence and wonder,' he said. Eldarion looked at him, slightly startled. There was a light in his eyes and a tone in his voice that his son had never shown before. He seemed much older. Much more like someone who would some day be king. 'My father and mother told me of it, but much of the focus of the tales was not on the places but the people and the happenings. My clearest memory of a story telling me of the lay of the City was when I was very young. My mother described to me the first time she gazed from the Tower of Ecthelion,' - here his eyes rose to the tower, and a brief silence fell as the others followed suit - 'and my father described to me the Tower itself. But as breathless as the stories left me, nothing compared to actually letting my eyes rise until finally they gazed at the towers, and fall until they rested on the streets and the people. I knew, when I looked here, that no matter how long I had lived in Methnan, I would never be able to see a city again without comparing it to Minas Tirith.' He remained standing for a brief moment, as if wanting to add something, then sat. He looked again very small in his tall chair, and the people clapped.  
  
+++++  
  
It was a few minutes before Celebros rose, and a very deathly silence fell on the people as he did so. Celebros spoke very rarely, and when he had his news had been only of graveness and despair. Even now, his eyes did not smile, although his mouth was curved upward. Anyone knowing him well could tell that although he was happy at the moment, his heart was not at peace.  
  
'For nine years,' he said, his voice falling hard on the utter silence, 'I have lived in a darkened world. Light has shone through still, pure light, but a curtain of darkness still was over me. The shadow in the north has lessened perhaps, but I looked on it then with more longing than apprehension. Near Mount Gundabad, the fortress of Galadon, Lord of the Dark Elves, is a peaceful and beautiful city that goes by the name of Minas Methith, the Tower of the Last Mist. Living there is the King, who is known as Tarmamethnan, although this is but a title. The heirs of the kings have united in friendship and more, and we hope that this will remain until the end. I fear no betrayal from our allies in the north, because its King is good and strong, and its people kind and brave, and they have suffered long at the hands of Galadon.' His eyes wandered as he spoke, and now they rested for a moment of more silence on Aeargil.  
  
'Now the darkness is lessened. The storm may be gathering, but we are allowed now a lull. Let us not waste the precious time we may have! Life is a gift from the One, and one hour wasted is one hour never returned. These hours before the breaking of the clouds may be long or may be short. For now, let us hold to what we have.' He raised his glass. 'To friendship, and life, and family!' His eyes fell on Eldarion and the children, and remained there as he drank. The entire crowd echoed it, and it rang in everyone's ears. Celebros sat, and the clapping came, louder than before, stronger.  
  
+++++  
  
'That was amazing,' Vildir said quietly.  
  
'Yes,' Eldarion agreed. 'So many people...' He felt momentarily ashamed for not being used to it, but he had felt his heart pounding as he spoke into the silence. Nothing had been like that at Methnan. They had a Council - fifteen people - the King, three chosen members of his family, and eleven ramdomly selected commoners, and they would discuss things, and then pass the word on.  
  
'No,' Vildir said, shaking his head. 'I mean, yes, that was too, but Celebros'...that speech...'  
  
'Oh,' Eldarion said, and nodded. 'It surprised me. He really has changed since we left.'  
  
Vildir smiled. 'He just...he had it all planned. But yes, the people were amazing too...I remember when Grandfather let me sit in on the Council to see how it worked, and I...'  
  
'I liked your speech,' Elenya said from her chair in the corner. She had politely declined to sit by the fire with them. Aeargil was out - visiting one of her old friends. 'It was very good. I could feel myself agreeing.' High praise, from Elenya. The City seemed to be bringing that out in her...but it still made her uneasy.  
  
'I'm going to ask Father if I can take you somewhere,' Eldarion announced. 'He might not let me - it isn't always the safest place, or the best for children - but I hope he will. I think you'd like it.'  
  
+++++  
  
The King raised his eyebrows and let another wisp of smoke from his mouth, shifting his pipe. Eldarion coughed and glared. 'I just think they'd enjoy it.'  
  
'Celebros was sixteen before he was allowed in.'  
  
'That was because of Malgil, and don't deny it. I was allowed in when I was twelve. And I was allowed to use it when I was fourteen. And then we still weren't sure about the dagger.'  
  
'We still aren't,' his father sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking the pipe from his mouth. 'Especially after how it affected Celebros. I'd think you'd be a bit more careful.'  
  
'Well, El isn't about to do anything, and she'll watch Vildir too. She's a very mature girl. Almost like an adult. I wish she wasn't, though. She was never childish. Even as a baby, she was big-eyed and quiet and watchful. She rarely cried.'  
  
'You know that exactly the same was true with Celebros. Watchful...she'll notice it. It isn't a better thing for her, in this case. If the dagger affects either of them, get them out of there right away, and come to me when you've got them both back home. We'll have to do something, if it does. Celebros probably tried to get back in.'  
  
'Luckily for him, he probably failed.'  
  
'Perhaps not,' King Elessar said quietly, putting the pipe between his lips again. 'All right. But remember, don't stay there for long, and don't bring their attention to the dagger.'  
  
+++++  
  
'Come on, elhini,' Eldarion said, opening the door to the apartment. 'Father gave me permission to take you to the armory of the City.'  
  
'Really?' Vildir breathed. 'Wow! Come on, El!' Elenya, looking quietly apprehensive, clambered somewhat less quickly off her chair and followed her father and brother.  
  
'Here it is,' Eldarion announced about ten minutes later. He pushed open the door, putting a hand on Vildir's shoulder and giving his youngest a meaningful look. She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. 'Be careful. Not everything in here is safe - as a matter of fact, most things aren't.'  
  
Vildir didn't answer. He was standing in the doorway, staring 'round in awe. Eldarion noted with relief that his eyes didn't linger on any one place, and slid right over the dagger.  
  
Elenya was looking at some things more fixedly and ignoring most of them. She examined some of the armor, and wandered over to the swords, looking at one that had been scratched and marred many times, and then she went over to the dagger.  
  
'What's this, Father?' she asked, pointing at it. Eldarion's heart sank. It's only the normal reaction, he told himself.  
  
'It's just a dagger, El,' he told her half-truthfully.  
  
'Is something wrong?' she asked, looking at him and reading his expression.  
  
'Oh, El, just stay away from the dagger.'  
  
'All right...' she sighed - not like Celebros, not like he did, Eldarion thought frantically, it's just normal - and moved to look at other things.  
  
He gave them only a couple more minutes. But his heart filled with dread as they left, because he saw little Elenya's eyes stray back to the dagger, and her mouth form the words The hopes and loves of his own heart...  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion hunched his shoulders, seemingly attempting to make himself as small as possible. His father's eyes were searching and unreadable.  
  
'I may assume by your arrival that one of them was drawn to it?' he said quietly.  
  
'El,' the Prince said quietly. 'Not as much, not by a long way, but she was. I could see it. She looked back as we were leaving, and I think she'd already memorized the carving, but she left it alone when I told her to. She wasn't immediately drawn to it - she looked at a lot of other things, and then asked me what it was, and what was wrong. I told her it was just a dagger, and to stay away from it, and she did.'  
  
The King was obviously deep in thought. 'Did she ask you what any of the other items were?'  
  
'No,' Eldarion said. 'And she didn't seem to be looking at much after I told her to stay away from it.'  
  
'It seemed unnatural to you?'  
  
'Well, yes.'  
  
'I don't know her as well, of course, so I wondered for a moment - but that wasn't just a normal reaction for her?'  
  
'I don't know,' Eldarion said miserably. 'I was trying to tell myself it was. But I don't think so. She didn't seem obsessive, just...curious. She wasn't as mesmerized by it.'  
  
'I think all we can do for now is keep an eye on her, and the dagger. Vildir and Celebros, as well, I suppose.'  
  
Eldarion nodded mutely, and stood, but before he reached the door the King added something.  
  
'Have you ever asked Celebros about the dagger, Eldarion?'  
  
'No,' Eldarion responded, surprised. His father made an indistinct sound and nodded, and Eldarion thought hard. 'Father,' he said after a moment. 'Earil did. I'm sure of it.'  
  
'That may make things even more difficult,' King Elessar sighed. 'I was too late in asking, then. Now Earil is gone, and Celebros may not want to talk about something like that if Earil was the only one he'd ever spoken about it to before.'  
  
'If only he was still here,' Eldarion whispered.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros sighed and lay back on his bed. 'I do NOT want to get up today,' he announced to the ceiling. 'Dear Elbereth.' Tears filled his eyes, and he smiled ever so slightly. 'Well,' he whispered after a moment. 'Happy birthday, Earil.'  
  
And for a moment, he could have been sure he heard a soft laugh in response.  
  
+++++  
  
Elenya and Vildir went out early the next morning, much to Eldarion's discomfort. He made them promise not to go near the stables or the armory, but Vildir asked why not the armory, and he lied that some of the items were being moved to a new armory and the men would be busy. His stomach twisted with the fabrication.  
  
They agreed somewhat reluctantly, and promised to be back by lunchtime, and set off.  
  
+++++  
  
It was around eleven that morning that Celebros finally decided to get up and about. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if something was about to happen, and it was not the first time that the feeling had been right.  
  
+++++  
  
Around one, Eldarion began to get seriously worried. The children hadn't returned yet, and they had promised they would be back by lunchtime. But that was an hour gone. They knew better.  
  
He was fastening his cloak when Elenya burst in. 'About -' he began, and stopped. She was crying - sobbing uncontrollably. And she was alone.  
  
'El, what happened!?' he demanded. 'Where's Vildir?'  
  
'I don't know!' she cried. 'He took him, I know he took him, I don't know!'  
  
'Who took him? What happened?'  
  
'Vildir and I got seperated - we were down by the gardens playing, hiding from each other, and then I heard him cry my name, and ran to where he was. There was a man there, with a black cloak, and he - I didn't see Vildir, but the man hurried away, and I heard Vildir's voice again from the way he'd hurried in. I ran again to where I'd heard it, and Vildir's brooch from Celebros was there on the ground.' She held it up, face tearstained. 'I don't know!'  
  
Eldarion relaxed slightly. 'El, Vildir was probably just playing and lost his brooch. There's lots of people in black in the City. I wear black myself.'  
  
Elenya shook her head fiercely. 'That's not true!' she cried. 'He took Vildir! I know it! He was bad!'  
  
'El -' Eldarion said, reaching out and wiping tears off her face, but his daughter pulled away.  
  
'You have to believe me!' she screamed. 'Please, Father!'  
  
Eldarion sighed. 'Minas Tirith is safe, Elenya.' He put a hand on her shoulder. 'I bet that this evening or so, Vildir will come right in here. Maybe he just got lost. Celebros did when he was a bit older than Vildir, and he'd lived his whole life here.'  
  
Elenya jerked away, pushing his hand off her shoulder. Startled and hurt, Eldarion pulled back. 'I don't believe it!' she screamed. 'Vildir's been kidnapped and you don't even care!'  
  
'I'll talk to my father, El, all right? I'll tell him what you think happened.'  
  
'I don't think it happened! I know it! You have to do something?'  
  
'What should I do?'  
  
'Go and order all the gates closed.'  
  
'I can't do that!' Eldarion said. 'I don't even have any proof that anything's wrong at all! You didn't see Vildir being dragged off.'  
  
'I felt it!' she sobbed through her hands. 'Please, Father...Father...'  
  
'I'm going to talk with the King. You stay here, elhin.'  
  
She didn't answer, just continued to cry, and very reluctantly, he left her there.  
  
+++++  
  
'I don't think it's anything, Father. She doesn't like people very much, and she thinks he was kidnapped. She did seem awfully upset, but I think she's overreacting. He's probably lost. Can we call for a search in the City?'  
  
'Of course,' King Elessar said. 'Are you certain it's not worse than that?'  
  
'Yes, fairly sure. Vildir's like that. He'll be back by morning at the latest.'  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion sighed. 'He'll be back any time now, Aeargil. Celebros got lost before, and he didn't turn up until the next morning, but he was fine. The Guards are looking out for him.'  
  
'It doesn't feel right,' she whispered. 'He was just in the gardens, El said.'  
  
'They might not have been in the gardens. They wanted to go to the stables.'  
  
'If El said they were in the gardens, then they were. You know that, Eldarion. She doesn't lie.'  
  
'Just because she doesn't usually -'  
  
'Eldarion, what if she was telling the truth? What if Vildir really is gone? What are we going to do if we find out that we could have helped him and we didn't believe her?'  
  
'I don't know,' Eldarion said quietly. 'But Vildir's so careful. And who would want a child? Around here, these days, they want people for information. And he doesn't know any Gondorian secrets.'  
  
'But if they told you they had your son, and they asked you something, would you tell them?'  
  
Eldarion was silent a moment. 'Of course I would,' he said quietly. 'Anyone would.'  
  
'It would be easier to take a child than someone older who knew things. What if it was the truth?'  
  
Eldarion shook his head. 'If he's not back in the morning, I'll be gone. Dear Elbereth protect him.'  
  
'Elbereth protect us all.'  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion woke abruptly. Dim light shone in the window. It took a moment for memory to hit. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and murmered a quiet prayer before reopening his eyes and glancing over at Aeargil. She was asleep, and looked strained. What was I thinking? he wondered. If there was any doubt, I should have... He shook her shoulder gently, but she didn't wake right away, and he looked at her a moment longer. If he's here, there's no need to wake her, he told himself, and stood carefully, moving into the next room and hesitating by the children's door.  
  
He pushed it open, and gasped as if the air had been driven out of him. Both beds were empty and unslept-in. Then the small piece of paper lying on Elenya's pillow caught his eye, and, not remembering the motion, found himself on his knees by her bed, one hand across his mouth, the other clutching the note with trembling fingers.  
  
Mother and Father, Please forgive my decision in this matter. Vildir is in danger and no one will listen. I have gone to find him and do whatever I can. If no one else cares about my brother and believes me, then it is up to me to help him. I will return if and when I can, and I will not return until I find Vildir and am certain I have done whatever I can to help him. I have stolen a dagger, a small horse, and enough food to last me for several weeks, and have taken anything necessary. Elenya  
  
+++++  
  
Elenya glanced back at the City again. The darkness was thick, and the dawn had not yet come. She had waited for hours, awake, listening to her parents talk, until they were asleep.  
  
She wished suddenly that she had spoken to Celebros - she had not seen him at all. He would have listened. She was sure of it.  
  
The note was harsh, and she had meant it to be so. No dear at the beginning or love near the end, no reassurances that she would be back soon and well, and certainly nothing to assure them that it would be 'all right' despite the things they had done. Perhaps Vildir was dead now, thanks to their deafness and denial. If that was so, she would not return at all. Or perhaps she would have to sacrifice herself to save him.  
  
If it was necessary, of course, she would.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros was woken very early the next morning by a loud pounding at the door. He groaned, rolled over, and sighed. 'Who is it?' he called wearily.  
  
'It's Eldarion, Celebros.' He sounded extremely frantic.  
  
'Come in.' He sat up, blinking off sleep.  
  
Eldarion opened the door and shut it quickly behind him. He looked as if...he had been crying. 'What's wrong?' Celebros asked, instantly more alert.  
  
'The children are gone,' he replied, voice wrung with pain. 'Did Elenya stop in at any time last night?'  
  
Celebros shook his head. 'How?' he whispered.  
  
'Elenya came back from playing yesterday afternoon. She thought Vildir had been kidnapped. I was so stupid!' he cried out, slamming a fist on his knee. 'I thought that Vildir had gotten lost, but she was so frantic that I talked to Father. We ordered the Guards to look for him. We got more worried when he didn't come back by last night, and I told Aeargil I'd go out of the City looking if he wasn't back by morning. When I went into their room, less than an hour ago, there was a note on El's pillow. She's gone after them, Celebros. By herself - I don't even know where! She said she wouldn't come back until she was sure she'd done everything she could to help him. She didn't sleep last night. She waited in her room until we were asleep and left, I'd guess. I thought she might have stopped here. You wouldn't have been as stupid as I was. You would have listened to her.'  
  
Celebros didn't answer, just lay slowly back into his pillow, covering his face with his hands. 'Oh, Elbereth,' he said quietly after a moment. 'Oh, dear Elbereth. Have you... gone to your father?'  
  
'I figured I'd come here and see if she'd been here before that.'  
  
Celebros nodded. 'Go to him. Quickly.'  
  
Eldarion turned and left the room without another word.  
  
+++++  
  
Quiet.  
  
Wind blowing through the grasses.  
  
Soft breeze through silver-gold hair.  
  
The quiet sound of the horse, moving like liquid strength.  
  
Quiet.  
  
+++++  
  
'Mmmmph,' Celebros said. 'I do not want to get up. I do not want to be awake. I want you to tell me right now that I imagined everything that happened this morning.'  
  
Eldarion hesitated, unable to completely ignore that, but then said softly, 'I'm leaving in about an hour. Alone.'  
  
'To Morgoth with that. What if something happened to you? Let me go too.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Damn you. Damn you!'  
  
'I have to be alone, Celebros. You can't know. You can't understand. There are things about you I can't understand, and you know that, and I don't try to understand. You've got to do the same here. It has to be alone.'  
  
Celebros looked away, and was silent a moment. Then he said quietly, 'One of these days, we're going to have to travel together when no one is in deadly danger.'  
  
Eldarion nodded. 'We'll do that. Now, don't get yourself into trouble. If all goes well, we'll be back in a week or less.'  
  
'Take care, and go swiftly with the luck and light of the Valar.'  
  
'Thank you,' Eldarion whispered, and lay a hand on Celebros' shoulder.  
  
'Whoever he is, he's dangerous. Be careful.'  
  
'I'll be -'  
  
'No!' Celebros said quickly. 'Don't say that. Last time you did, you almost died. I don't want you to say that.'  
  
Eldarion's face half-shattered. 'If something happens to me, Celebros, please take care of them for me. Take care of them all.'  
  
'You'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen to you.' Celebros smiled weakly. 'There. Now, when I say it - I don't know. It's just a weird feeling.'  
  
Eldarion stood for a moment with his hand on the doorknob and his back to Celebros. Then he turned around a moment. Two quiet tears had run down his face. 'Celebros -' he whispered.  
  
'I know, Eldarion,' Celebros cut him off quietly. 'I know. Bring them back safely and quickly. Namarie.'  
  
Eldarion didn't say goodbye. He was afraid to.  
  
+++++  
  
Elenya Telcontar was afraid.  
  
Reality had sunk in slightly, and she had realized that all she was following was a strange notion. What in Morgoth am I doing? she wondered. There is no trail to follow. There is nothing to do but hope that someone is guiding me. I certainly don't know the way.  
  
'Hold on, Vildir,' she whispered, and her steed rode faster.  
  
+++++  
  
The air seemed empty and stale. Nothing was right. Everything was wrong.  
  
The man was sitting in a dark corner. It was all dark, but this seemed darkest. Only a dim firelight from the far corner let him know that he was surrounded by stone, and that the man was sitting in the corner alone.  
  
He let out a small whimper as he shifted, feeling a sort of solid pain shoot through his leg. The man cocked his head slightly as he spoke for the first time. His voice was rough and cold.  
  
'I wouldn't try to run, if I were you, Telcontar brat. Your leg is broken in several places.'  
  
He stopped moving, looking at the man, who was again silent. 'What do you...want with me?' he asked pitifully.  
  
'I don't want anything with you,' the man said simply, emphasizing I. 'I'm merely obeying orders.'  
  
'Whose?'  
  
'Now, now, Telcontar brat. Don't ask questions to which you don't want to know the answer.' The tone in his voice silenced any protests. He was sure the man was right. Whoever it was, he didn't want to know who they were. He swallowed and watched the man in silence as he stood and moved over to the fire and prodded it with a long stick. He quickly analyzed the man. Medium height or shorter and thin, as one who has been starved, he walked with a limp in his right leg. His face was empty and emotionless with glittering green eyes and curly straw-colored hair.  
  
'What's your name?' Vildir asked quietly.  
  
'My name?' the man asked, and laughed quietly. Vildir shivered. It was a loud, cold, long laugh. 'Tahir of the North.' His lip had a cruel sneer to it. Vildir gasped.  
  
'Oh, Elbereth! You're Tahir? Oh, Elbereth!'  
  
'You've heard of me?' Tahir said, raising his eyebrows. 'I'm touched. I've heard of Celebros' other exploits. You'd think he'd have better things to talk about than me.'  
  
'Actually,' Vildir said, trembling with fury, 'he didn't talk about you. Gwalas did.'  
  
'That redhead elf scamp?' Tahir's face looked truly ugly now. 'I hope I left him a few good scars.'  
  
'No, actually.' Vildir gritted his teeth, trying to get him angry. Tahir saw it, however, and kicked his leg. If he had wanted to see Vildir in torturous pain, he succeeded. The boy screamed, breathing fast, eyes wide and hurt.  
  
'Oh, your cousin - he is your cousin? Yes - he didn't put up quite as much of a fight. I like you, Telcontar brat. I like you a lot. I'm going to get some sport before - before the one who wants you returns. So you lived in Methnan? Wonderful place, that. I rejoiced when I heard about the war, but your father's people won that for your grandfather, didn't they? I was actually rather taken with your mother. I was quite happy when I heard the news about your father, but he would live through something as impossible as that. When I heard that Celebros had survived my ordeal, I was startled, but then I'd heard that he was dead from the mountain-trip. I heard not then. So he is alive? I don't know what to think.'  
  
'What?' Vildir gasped. The last half of that was entirely confusing to him, from 'the war' to 'the mountain-trip.' 'What are you talking about?'  
  
A malicious, delighted smile crept across Tahir's usually cold face. 'You mean you don't even know?' he said, sounding amused. 'Oh, this will be fun. Your mother and father and cousin, and you don't even know?'  
  
'I don't understand.'  
  
'Clearly. Well, you see, it's quite a long story, but we have all the time in the world. At least, until the one who wants you arrives. No worries yet, Telcontar brat.'  
  
+++++  
  
A sudden terrible wrench in Eldarion's heart told him that something had gone wrong.  
  
He hated himself. Why had he been so blind? How could he ever have been so naieve? El, I'm sorry, he screamed to the silence in his head. Vildir...I'm sorry.  
  
But silence was all that answered him, and another howl tore his heart. It's all wrong.  
  
He was resting, if only because he wanted to make sure his horse was in good condition. He would leave again very soon now. He had thought of places to hide, and instantly thought of the caves. Ithilien caves were impossible to navigate through unless you knew them very well, but all of the tunnels were known; eventually someone would find them. No, it was the caves along the White Mountains that bothered him. Most of them were entirely uncharted and no one knew them well.  
  
They also contained many creatures that Eldarion did not want to encounter.  
  
But the longer Vildir was in their hands, the more chance his young son had of meeting one of them. And that was not a chance Eldarion wanted to test.  
  
He hoped he was making the right choice. But whoever had Vildir would want to keep him quite a long time wherever they were, until they could get information or riches, and if they insisted on meeting near Ithilien - the caves were the only place to hide anywhere, and they would be searched instantly.  
  
+++++  
  
Closer and closer to Ithilien she went, faster and farther, her anxiety growing. Growing with the strange feeling that she might be stopped. That she would never see her brother alive again.  
  
+++++  
  
'So how much do you know? Your parents made me out to be the big bad villan?'  
  
'Celebros was telling us about before he met you and some of that sounded worse than what Mother and Father told us about.'  
  
'Us, you say. That little sister of yours and you?'  
  
Vildir nodded silently. His heart ached to think of what Elenya must have thought. He had tried to cry out...he had remembered a story his father had told him about leaving a brooch to show the way that the prisoner went, and had managed to throw the precious pendant where she would probably find it. He had torn his cloak unfastening it.  
  
'Well? How much more do you know about what happened?'  
  
'Not much, I guess. Mother always told names, but not what happened. "Then they had a run-in with Eldurhir" she said. "Then he was taken for a bit by Eldir" she said. I think El understood more than that, sometimes, but I'm not like that.'  
  
'So it's just names, is it?'  
  
'I know some other things, from earlier...he had a bad fever when I was little. I remember Father was so worried. When it got worse, Mother always told us later that she'd practically had to fight him to prevent him from coming to the City. And they talked about fights with orcs and bandits. Earil was. Father always told me I'd like him. He was Celebros' best friend. One of the letters to Father from Gwalas said they were like brothers.'  
  
'But of detail, you know essentially nothing.'  
  
Vildir opened his mouth to protest, then closed it slowly and miserably. He nodded. 'Pretty much. They always say I'll understand when I'm older.'  
  
'Don't you think you're old enough to know?'  
  
'Yes!' Vildir said, more loudly than he'd meant to.  
  
'Do you want me to tell you?'  
  
Vildir was quiet a moment. 'They think I'm not ready to know yet. I don't want to make them mad.'  
  
'When everything is finished, child, I think they'll have better things to worry about.'  
  
Vildir shivered. 'Is your master going to hurt me?'  
  
'Is your father going to tell us what we need?'  
  
Both of them lapsed into a somewhat angry silence for a moment. Then Vildir said quietly, 'My father will do what he has to.' He was silent again for a moment, then he looked up into Tahir's eyes and asked him in a trembling whisper, 'What would your father do, if you were in my place?'  
  
Tahir looked very angry for a moment, and he almost stood. Then he slumped back against the wall, staring at his hands.  
  
'My father could have cared less about my life,' he whispered to Vildir.  
  
'Your mother.'  
  
'I never knew her. She died when I was born.'  
  
'Brothers or sisters.'  
  
'My older brother hated me, and he died in a fire when I was four.'  
  
Vildir was silent once more, but again, after a moment, he whispered, 'Did I miss anyone?'  
  
Tahir looked at him for a long moment in silence, and for a second, Vildir thought he'd hit a dead end. But then the older man broke the silence.  
  
'My son's dead,' he said, his voice rough, like a callus covering damaged, tender, easily wounded skin.  
  
'How old was he?'  
  
No silence this time. 'He was ten.'  
  
'How?'  
  
'Murdered.'  
  
'And if you could have saved him,' Vildir whispered, voice hardened. 'If he was sitting here in my place, and you were sitting there, would you care about him? Or would you be this cold shell that you are to me, not caring if I live or die? Not caring if you kill me?'  
  
For a moment, he thought that Tahir's eyes had seemed unusually bright, as if full of tears. Then the fire went out, and the man grunted. A moment later there was light again, and the previously melting eyes were empty and hard again.  
  
'My son is dead,' Tahir said harshly. 'Maybe you'll join him sometime soon. Do you want to know the things they never told you first?'  
  
A chill went up and down Vildir's spine. 'Yes,' he muttered, looking down. Father, help me, please. Father, please.  
  
+++++  
  
Another chill down her spine. Cold, cold. It was wrong. It was all wrong.  
  
The darkness had once more crept over her while she had been resting, so she tried to sleep with little success. The uneasy feeling in the back of her head grew, and as it consumed more and more of her senses, the hope that she would help to save Vildir shrank.  
  
+++++  
  
Aeargil was constantly on the edge. She had visited him several times, always breaking down eventually into tears. Celebros didn't blame her. He wondered somewhat whether she blamed Eldarion for what had happened to both the children.  
  
There had been no outside word as to the situation, but Legolas, who was managing Ithilien, and King Elfwine of Rohan, and Gimli, who was now at the Glittering Caves, had all been informed and warned to look out. King Elfwine had offered to send out searchers into the mountains, and Legolas had done the same, but both offers were refused. King Elessar was afraid that his youngest grandson might be killed if the kidnapper felt there was danger of capture.  
  
And the King didn't think that Vildir was somewhere where any searchers would find him.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros glanced around the corner, but there was no one there. It was foolish of him, really, but he hated the business and noise of the City during the day. He came to the gardens at night for the silent peace, and did not wish to break the silence before reaching his rooms.  
  
He missed Eldarion, and wished that he had gone to find the children. Now, he shrank into shadows and seperation.  
  
Walking slowly down the dark streets, Celebros thought he heard a quiet swish. He laughed quietly to himself as he started to turn. He was getting paranoid. Jumping at wind in the branches and shadows from the moon.  
  
Then he heard a very different sound, and an arrow whipped past him, barely an inch from him. He leapt back, looking around wildly. The arrow had clattered to the stones. He picked it up and stared at it. Ordinary and nondescript, it could have belonged to anyone.  
  
Breathing hard and fast, Celebros moved into the shadows, half-running, looking around for the slightest movement... he didn't have his swordbelt, what need was there for it in Minas Tirith? This was a safe City.  
  
Or so he had thought.  
  
From the darkness between the houses there was movement. Before he could do anything, a black-cloaked, hooded figure had half-thrown him against the stone wall of one of the buildings. He stared, wide-eyed, at the figure, hearing the arrow drop with a clatter to the stones. He opened his mouth to yell, but there was a knife at his throat.  
  
'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' a soft, dangerous voice whispered in his ear.  
  
There was a silence as the two of them stood motionless. Then there was a noise from down the street, and the man whipped around, bringing the knife down. It slashed across Celebros' side, and he cried out softly.  
  
The man backed away slowly. Celebros looked where he was looking and saw a shadowed figure appear at the end of the street. The hooded man stepped on the arrow behind him. It broke in two. He picked it up with a soft curse, and ran out of sight.  
  
The figure came running, and as whoever-it-was came out of the shadows, Celebros saw the familiar face, the red hair and hazel eyes.  
  
Gwalas stopped in front of him and they stared at each other, both with wide eyes. Then clutching his side, feeling hot blood seeping through his fingers, Celebros slid to the ground.  
  
+++++  
  
'It's not really that serious, King Elessar, it's only that -'  
  
'Of course, and I understand your concern, but the threats we must pay attention to now, Pernathos, are the Galadil and the Eldurhir'rim.'  
  
'King Elfwine may not have shown any sign of corruption, Your Majesty, but it was not until the councillor came that Eomer began to become a threat, and the man is still there -'  
  
'There has been no complaint from the people of a taint, and I have full confidence in King Elfwine. His wisdom and insight are greater than his father's, and Eomer was a great and wise man. He is young, and his heart is pure and strong.'  
  
'Very well.'  
  
King Elessar and Pernathos continued walking along the street, Pernathos silent, eyes darkened. The King continued after a moment.  
  
'In any case, in the matter of security regarding -'  
  
Suddenly, Pernathos let out a yell and threw himself before the King. He fell to the ground with an arrow in his leg, just above the knee.  
  
King Elessar stared around wildly. Pernathos moaned, staring at the arrow, which was ordinary and dug deep into his flesh.  
  
Another arrow whipped through the air and grazed the King's cheek. Only a few seconds later, he ducked a throwing knife, which went directly through the space where his head had been. Pernathos scrambled, trying to get to his feet, and King Elessar helped him. The two of them ran as fast as was possible, staying out of the streets, to the Houses of Healing.  
  
As they burst in the front door, Pernathos gritting his teeth and breathing hard, the King heard Celebros' voice from the next room say quietly, 'I didn't see his face, he had a hood on!'  
  
'But you had to have seen something...' Gwalas' voice pressed urgently.  
  
'Everything about him was normal and standard, down the brooch on his cloak. Don't you think I looked? There was nothing trademark about him. I wouldn't know him if I saw him on the streets.'  
  
The King and Pernathos hurried into the room. All four of them fell silent. King Elessar eased Pernathos onto one of the empty beds, then turned his head to look at the other two. Gwalas was unmarked. Celebros was bare-chested, and held a length of bloody bandages to his side.  
  
'What happened?' Gwalas asked quietly as Pernathos clenched his teeth, moaning.  
  
'We were headed toward the Hall when Pernathos saw something and threw himself in front of me,' the King said quietly. He looked up at Celebros, staring into his grandson's eyes. 'It looks as if we have an assassin loose in the City.'  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros shifted, unable to sleep. His side was burning again. It had been treated and wrapped, and his grandfather didn't think the knife had been poisoned. It didn't really matter to Celebros anymore. He had only one thought drowning out the rest. Why didn't he kill me when he had the chance?  
  
And the answer was right there. He wasn't trying to kill me, was he? The arrow had been a warning. He was trying to kidnap me.  
  
Oh, Elbereth. Vildir.  
  
He shifted his mind to another question. What about the King? From what he and Pernathos told us, that was no kidnapping attempt. That was definitely an assassination attempt.  
  
There was no doubt that they were related. It could have been the same person, but that seemed unlikely. No, there had been many people in on these plans. The assassin, and the kidnappers.  
  
If we find them, do we find Vildir? Or do they kill him?  
  
If we follow them, do they lead us to Vildir?  
  
What can we do without putting my cousin's life on the line?  
  
The answer was right there for that question, too. No matter what they did, Vildir's life was at risk. So there the answer was.  
  
What can we do to assure that Vildir will live?  
  
Absolutely nothing.  
  
+++++  
  
'No.' Vildir was breathing hard, trying to back away but running into the stone wall that he was already cornered against. 'That's not true! I don't believe you!'  
  
'Prove it,' Tahir said, eyes willing him to look into them and see the truth. 'Look into my eyes and tell me that I'm lying.'  
  
'No!' Vildir shuddered, casting his eyes about, anywhere, anywhere but his eyes, I can't look in his eyes no no no Mother Father - Celebros no please no anything but that don't hurt my cousin don't tell me that it's not true no no no no no -  
  
'Vildir,' Tahir said, and something in his voice deepened sorrowfully. 'Vildir, you told me you wanted to know. You deserve to know.'  
  
'They were right, they were right, I can't know that, I can't know that, I'm not ready, not mature enough -'  
  
'Vildir, you're old enough to face the truth. They were keeping that from you, all these years. All your life, they've lied to you about your cousin, about Methnan, about your parents, about the war -'  
  
'There's no war,' Vildir whimpered. 'You're a - you're not telling the tru -'  
  
'Vildir,' Tahir's voice said as the boy squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears fill them up. He tried not to open them, but that voice was so sad, so convincing. He was staring at Tahir's eyes, those deep emeralds worn away by years and experience. 'I'm sorry. It's the truth.'  
  
And Vildir saw in Tahir's eyes, and knew that both of those statements were true.  
  
+++++  
  
'Can I have...some water?'  
  
Tahir poured a very small amount into the tin cup, barely a small sip, and handed it to him.  
  
'Thank you.' There was another moment of silence, and then Vildir sighed. 'Did my father -' He stopped a moment, looking at the ground, and then tried again. 'Did you ever meet my father?'  
  
'No. After I met Celebros, I never returned to Methnan, and until recently I'd never been to Minas Tirith.'  
  
'Oh.' Vildir didn't move, just sat there, staring at the hard rock.  
  
'But I did know your mother.'  
  
The boy looked up slightly and tilted his head. 'I -' he began, but his voice was trembling, and broke immediately. He put his head on his knee, on the leg that was unbroken and curled near to his chest, and started to cry.  
  
'What's wrong, Vildir?' One could almost believe that he didn't know.  
  
'I want to go home,' Vildir cried, trembling and furiously shaking his head. 'I hate you. I hate you. I want to go home.'  
  
'Where is home?'  
  
'Minas Tirith. I want to go to Minas Tirith. I want Mother and Father and El...I just want to go home.' His voice was a fragile almost-wail.  
  
'Of course you do,' Tahir said quietly, coming over on all fours and putting a hand on Vildir's shoulder. 'I want to go home too.'  
  
Vildir pushed the hand off his shoulder, but Tahir leaned back against the wall next to him with his eyes closed. 'Where is home?' the boy asked softly. There was a broken quiver inside his eyes and his voice.  
  
Tahir opened his eyes and looked at the little boy staring wide-eyed at him for a moment. 'Don't ask me that,' he said hoarsely, looking away suddenly. 'Don't ask me that.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I don't know anymore, all right? I don't have a home. I work when I am asked, and I wander all over, and every night when I sleep, if I sleep, I watch my little boy die. I watch him die in my dreams and I watch him die when I look at you because I know that I'm already damned but if they kill you, if you die then I'm going to feel like you were him, like you were Tarren, my Tarren, my little boy -'  
  
And as Vildir watched in horror and some pity, Tahir curled his legs to his chest and sobbed.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion despaired as he searched each tunnel. All was dark, and he had to mark every path he went on and every place his son was not.  
  
He thought of Elenya stumbling into a dark room and finding a dark man and her brother. He thought of the man grabbing her and taking her captive as well. He thought of months passing in that cave, with his children starving with very little food and thirsty and hurt. He thought of Aeargil, waiting, waiting in the City for news, and never getting any. He thought of Celebros, of his father and mother, of his sisters. But mostly he thought as he went through each corner of each room of Vildir sitting somewhere with a man who sneered, holding a wicked-bladed dagger.  
  
And Eldarion despaired.  
  
He began not to care about himself anymore. He ate very little, sometimes not for a day on end, and stopped sleeping. There came a time when he realized that it had been days since he had slept at all, and didn't care. But he kept some little scrap of hope, somehow, somehow, and he held onto it during the cold nights without rest.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros winced as he unwound the bandages to clean the gash in his side. It was reddened and slightly swollen, but there was still no sign of poison. He remained expressionless, however, as he dabbed the wound with a cloth damp with a watery reddish liquid Gwalas had given him. It stung awfully, Elbereth knew, but he was used to that by now.  
  
Two weeks had come and gone since Vildir had vanished. Aeargil was distraught. There had been no word from Eldarion whatsoever - although how was he supposed to communicate? - and the King was also constantly worried. Pernathos was healing - he wouldn't be able to walk properly still for another three weeks. The arrow had splintered his bone and dug deep, deep into his flesh.  
  
Celebros couldn't honestly say that the two weeks had gone without event - three days after the assassin had made his appearance, a message of sorts had been delivered.  
  
+++++  
  
(flashback) Celebros lay on his back on his bed, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His eyes would occasionally flicker to the half-empty glass of wine on the table beside his bed, but then he would shift uncomfortably and his hands would tighten behind his head. He could feel his neck without moving his hands. His fingers seemed cold when they touched it - icy. He shuddered every few minutes, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.  
  
A knock at the door. Celebros started and groaned. Standing slowly, he walked to the door and swung it open.  
  
A man stood there, looking embarrassed and confused. 'I'm so sorry, m'lord - I was asked to deliver you a message.'  
  
'From who?'  
  
'He didn't say, m'lord, and I must say it's an odd thing. He asked for me to tell you that soon he'd know all he needed, and for me to give you this.'  
  
The man handed Celebros one half of an arrow. The broken edge was splintered. Celebros' eyes widened as he looked at it, then back at the man.  
  
'I think it might've been stepped on, sir. I don't know.'  
  
'What did this man look like?' Celebros made sure to keep his voice neutral and calm.  
  
'I didn't see his face, he was hooded. Odd, m'lord. Perhaps there was something wrong with his face. He looked real ordinary. Neat, if you know what I mean.'  
  
'Where is he?'  
  
'He left the City, sir. I'm a Gate-Guard. But he said I'd better deliver that message immediately, that it would be of great importance to you. I hope I've not done wrong, m'lord.'  
  
'No. No, you...did the right thing...'  
  
'Oh, good. I was afraid...'  
  
But the man stopped then, because another man had come up behind him, holding half of an arrow and wearing a very grave expression.  
  
'Your Majesty,' the man said, bowing low.  
  
'That's all right, Alden. You may go back to your post, if there was nothing else.'  
  
'No, there wasn't, Your Majesty. Thank you. Light of the Valar shine over you.'  
  
'Thank you -' And the man scurried off.  
  
'May I come in?' the King Elessar asked. Celebros nodded.  
  
'I talked to Gwalas,' his grandfather continued after a moment, standing while Celebros sat down slowly on the bed, 'so I do know what this means.'  
  
'It means they're gone. But I don't think that the person who organized this was ever in the City, King Elessar. That would be too high-risk - which means Eldarion has at least a bit more time.'  
  
+++++  
  
He visited the dungeons that evening - he didn't know why. He hadn't been anywhere near there since he'd heard that Dareth had died, a long time ago. Before Earil - oh, dear Elbereth, what would he say if he could see me now?  
  
But he visited the dungeons, and found himself standing in front of Tarel's cell, holding onto the bars as if he was the prisoner.  
  
'Who is it?' a dead sort of voice asked. It was husky and dry and terrible. 'What do you want?'  
  
Celebros couldn't answer, because he'd just lifted his torch and seen Tarel's face. He looked ancient - wrinkled and grey-haired and tired grey, as one on his deathbed. 'Oh, Elbereth,' Celebros whispered to himself, 'Elbereth, oh, Valar protect us, no.'  
  
'I know you,' the dead voice said quietly. 'I know your face. I know your voice. Who are you? When did I know you, before? Where have I...' He squinted, and shook his head. 'One of the boy's friends?'  
  
Celebros leaned his forehead against the bars, staring in in horror. 'Oh, Valar, oh, no.'  
  
'No,' Tarel said slowly. 'No, it is you. After all these years, boy! I had wondered whether you remembered us, after Dareth went. How's Earil?'  
  
Celebros didn't move, and Tarel sighed.  
  
'Oh, no,' he muttered. 'He's gone? Morgoth take the King. I asked him to tell me when one of us died.'  
  
'Earil wasn't one of you,' Celebros said, his voice sounding suddenly the same - dead and dry, like a wisp of dissolving nothing. 'Earil was never one of you.'  
  
'He only joined me because he wanted to die,' Tarel sighed. 'Did he ever tell you that?'  
  
'He didn't exactly put it that way -' Celebros was getting angry, but he also felt a strange feeling of warmth. Someone else who had known and cared.  
  
'I wanted to come to the burial,' Tarel said. 'Was it as good as he deserved, or did they treat him like a worthless piece of crap like they did Dareth?'  
  
'They tried,' Celebros said, and shrugged, forcing back tears. 'Nothing anyone could have done was as good as Earil deserved.'  
  
'He was good,' Tarel agreed, and Celebros felt a tiny flicker of marvel, like a candle flame, although he couldn't have explained why. Tarel seemed almost good now - almost as if he had come to terms and realized he deserved this. 'I always wanted to know more about why he took up my offer.'  
  
'He told me,' Celebros said, and then bit his lip.  
  
'No, don't tell me now. I don't deserve to know, and he didn't want me to. What's been happening?'  
  
'Since when?'  
  
'Say the past four years. All I've heard is that the Prince is back with his son and daughter, and some more along that tone. But no news from outside. Is war brewing?'  
  
'I really don't know. It's been quiet until recently -' His hand unconciously gripped his side.  
  
'I heard something, but I couldn't make sense of it. Care to tell me? If not, that's all right.'  
  
'Vildir - Eldarion's son - he's been kidnapped. We don't know by who. Elenya left to find her brother when no one would listen, and Eldarion's gone to find the two of them. He wouldn't let anyone come. Then someone tried to kidnap me and assassinate my grandfather, and left us a message when they left saying that soon they would know all they needed to. The other bandit groups are getting restless and starting to attack again, and the Greywood orcs are not improving.'  
  
'Well, I guess I'll stay in here then, if that's what the world's telling all you out there.'  
  
'Tarel,' Celebros said slowly, 'how long has it been since you were out of that cell?'  
  
Tarel eyed him a moment, then lowered his gaze. 'I don't know,' he said quietly. 'How long since Dareth died?'  
  
'Six years.'  
  
'Six years.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'The last time I was out was when Dareth died. They let me go to the burial, remember? Bound in chains with three guards.'  
  
+++++  
  
'I can't believe it.'  
  
Celebros watched the other man very closely, but he wasn't extraordinarily worried.  
  
'It's been six years since I've seen the sky or the sun or the clouds or - Morgoth, ten since I've seen the stars.'  
  
'I would have died,' Celebros said softly. 'I couldn't have stood that.'  
  
Through some stroke of luck, the guards Celebros had asked had actually let him take Tarel outside.  
  
'I almost did, at first,' Tarel admitted. 'After about three months, I stopped eating for almost five days. They told Earil - I thought he'd have told you.'  
  
'No. He must have thought I probably didn't care - and then, he'd have been right. I hated you.'  
  
'You don't now?' Tarel said, looking with startlement and disbelief at the young man standing next to him and looking at the sky. 'I'd hate me, were I you.'  
  
'I don't hate who you are,' Celebros said, very slowly, 'but although maybe who you were, I don't think so. I hate what you did.'  
  
'I killed your father.'  
  
'I hated you. I wanted to kill you.'  
  
'I don't know why I started to do it. I was tired of prejudice - of hatred - of - dear Elbereth, of living. But it started to get tiring. I almost killed your father right then. But he reached Minas Tirith alive, didn't he?'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros said quietly, looking at his feet. Tarel flinched and looked away at a bird that was flying past.  
  
A voice from behind them cut off both of their thoughts. 'Celebros?'  
  
Celebros twisted his head around. 'Oh. Gwalas. Any news?'  
  
'No. I was just coming out. I've been inside for days.' Gwalas came forward a bit, and his eyes widened a bit as he saw Tarel's uniform - that of a prisoner. Celebros didn't think he recognized Tarel, but still...he could probably guess...  
  
He came forward more, to next to Celebros.  
  
Tarel nodded acknowledgingly to him, holding out a callused hand. 'Tarel Nenelya.'  
  
Gwalas looked breifly at Celebros, who returned to his friend a level, even look. 'Gwalas Windleaf,' he said emotionlessly.  
  
'You all right, Celebros?' Gwalas asked, indicating his side. His eyes asked for more output than just on the slash.  
  
'I'm fine, really. That concoction you gave me for my side's been working.'  
  
Gwalas looked put out and slightly angry. Tarel noticed, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Celebros seemed unperturbed.  
  
Tarel looked back at the sky. 'I just feel like I could fly,' he said in an almost-whisper. 'I feel more alive than I've felt in six years. Even at Dareth's burial, I couldn't help but feel happy. I was breathing free air, even though I was still bound. You know, they put he and I next to each other for a while, and we talked for what could have been days on end. He said he wished he could apologize to you. Then they moved him farther away. They were afraid we were plotting escape.'  
  
'I ought to have come before.'  
  
'If you weren't ready...' Tarel shrugged. 'I might have hated you; you might have hated me.'  
  
'True, I suppose.'  
  
Gwalas stood silent, looking from one to the other. Celebros glanced at him. 'I hate to do this to you now, Tarel, but they asked that I bring you back soon. I could come by again sometime.'  
  
'Maybe. I hope they find the people who did this.'  
  
'I don't care. I just want the children. If they're all right, if they're even alive, I'll be all right.'  
  
+++++  
  
'I just want to make sure you remember what he did.'  
  
'I don't want to remember it, Gwalas, but I do. I can't forgive him for what he did, not truly, not in the bottom of my heart, but I can - I don't know. I just keep thinking that if I'd never met him, I'd never have known Earil.'  
  
'If you want to, I'm not going to stop you. Just make sure you don't forget what he did.'  
  
'Unfortunately, I can't. I just - I can't explain it. You can't understand. I'm sorry, but you just can't, and I can't.'  
  
'It's all right. But make sure, Celebros. Make sure you understand who he is now, not who he was.'  
  
'He didn't know Earil was dead,' Celebros said softly. 'He didn't even know, Gwalas. He wanted to know. He said he had told the King to tell him if any of the others died, and they did with Dareth, but...'  
  
'Your grandfather probably had better things to worry about,' Gwalas said sternly. 'Like you. You have no idea what you put the lot of us through then. I know you were suffering, but...you just kept vanishing. Not turning up for meetings when you'd promised, and the like. I doubt he even remembered. None of us thought of Earil as one of them. Not after a while, at least. Several of us disliked him at first, you know.'  
  
'I know. You weren't exactly secretive about it. You never said it straight out, but I could tell. Don't know if he could, though. He was sort of oblivious sometimes.'  
  
'Don't think he would have cared much, either. Elbereth, I wish Eldarion could have gotten to know him.'  
  
'He was looking forward to having a nice, long talk with Eldarion,' Celebros remembered, smiling. 'There were several things that he wanted to confront him about - have stern words with him. And thank him, too, I suppose.'  
  
'Yes, Eldarion's told me some things he's done for you that you probably even don't know. Modestly, of course, just mentioning it offhand.'  
  
'That's Eldarion for you. But he'd be surprised some of the things I know. Yes, I was rather naieve as a boy, I suppose, but I noticed some things. I just didn't realize that things were different...like my father.'  
  
Gwalas nodded. 'Eldarion's told me that. Things that happened, and you didn't mention them - like it was ordinary.'  
  
'Like when I was twelve - I suppose he's mentioned that?'  
  
'Oh, yes.'  
  
'Did he tell you if he was the one who got me my rooms?'  
  
'Of course. He talked to the King, and suggested it, after that incident, and of course your grandfather agreed.'  
  
'Yes. I always meant to ask him, but I figured that it would be rather awkward if it wasn't him.'  
  
'I suppose. He didn't seem bothered by that.'  
  
'He hated my father.'  
  
'Not for who he was, but for what he did. Yes, I rather think he did. He's never said so, but he did.'  
  
'I never could. I didn't care about him until the day he died, but I didn't hate him.'  
  
'You didn't have to see yourself suffer.'  
  
'I know.'  
  
'But there's things that you don't remember, that Eldarion does. I'm sure of it. It's awful.'  
  
'I'll have to ask him to tell me sometime. How am I supposed to figure out my life, otherwise?'  
  
'Did he ever hit you, Celebros?' Gwalas asked quietly. 'Other than that one time, I mean.'  
  
'Friday nights, my father would drink,' Celebros said softly, his eyes seeing another time. 'And when he drank, he would get angry. He hit me, most of the time, yes. I covered it up. I didn't want anyone to see it.'  
  
Gwalas shifted, uncomfortable, and then was silent for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he asked, 'Did he ever hit Malgil?'  
  
'Twice,' Celebros said softly. 'That I remember. Probably more. She never said anything. If Eldarion had ever known, I think he would have killed my father with his bare hands. The King might have, too. But it was only when he drank too much. Otherwise, he was fine. Well, maybe not fine, but he would never get violent. He would yell. When I drank...it frightened me, Gwalas. The one time that I drank so much...seven and a half bottles...Earil watered them down, I know he did. I'd had three before, and Eldarion practically forced that concoction of yours down my throat.'  
  
'I remember that time,' Gwalas said, shaking his head wryly. 'Seven and a half. Tasarian was actually rather amused. He knew that they hadn't been that strong. You weren't exactly lucid, but it wasn't that bad. Would have killed you, otherwise.'  
  
'I don't know,' Celebros said quietly. 'That might have been why I did it.' Gwalas looked at the ground.  
  
'You were depressed,' the elf said quietly, and he looked up. 'It was awful for all of us, perhaps even as much as it was for you, because we had to see you like that. Don't ever do that again, Celebros. You scared us. You scared us badly.'  
  
Celebros nodded, and hiss face crumpled a bit, and then he asked rather quietly, 'What happened to your family, Gwalas?'  
  
Gwalas' eyes flashed briefly, and Celebros bowed his head. 'Sorry,' he said softly.  
  
'No, it's fine,' Gwalas assured him, although his eyes were still strange. 'I don't think anyone really knows... except Brethil, or Eldir, or the Council. My parents weren't Galadil. My mother died when my brother was born, and my father brought the two of us to the Galadil and left us. He didn't know who they were, only that they were Elven and that he was dying of a broken heart. I raised Methel like my own son, but he followed the ways more and more, and questioned me often. I was less obedient. I was punished for it, until I rose through the ranks.  
  
'Then Methel vanished, and they told me he was dead. They never told me how. Brethil and Eldir. How strange that they were the two you met. Brethil ignored me, after Methel's death, and I knew that he had found something about my brother I didn't know. They said he was killed by Men, and everyone but me believed it.'  
  
Celebros nodded slowly as Gwalas fell silent, and looked away. When he looked back, he was startled to see tears falling down Gwalas' cheeks. The Elf looked at him miserably. 'He was like my son,' Gwalas whispered, shaking his head. 'He was the only family I knew, really - I was only ten when my mother died. He was the only one, Celebros, and now he's gone and there's nothing.'  
  
Celebros nodded. 'I never had a brother, they tell me,' he said, his voice strangled, 'but I don't know what they mean anymore. What is a brother, Gwalas?'  
  
'Earil,' Gwalas said, and it was, in a sense, the answer Celebros was looking for.  
  
+++++  
  
So much time had passed for Elenya that every day was a year and year a day. Hours sped or dragged but every second was another eternity of pain and cold.  
  
Elenya continued along the passageway quietly, eyes darting both ahead and behind. One hand on the wall to guide her, and a very dim torchlight to help - that was all. She dragged her feet purposefully so as to leave a track. Already she'd backtracked too many times to count, and -  
  
Movement! She ducked into a shadow, blowing her torch to an ember. It didn't matter, something, someone was here. Behind her...far enough that she had time to go forward. She moved silently from the corner, darting ahead, down the left passageway, not scuffling her feet, not caring, go, go, go, run!  
  
Into a dead end - she turned and ran back, out, I've got to get into the right -  
  
She flew into something very solid and very alive. She could hear a startled intake of breath that was not her own, and a soft curse in Elven. A hand grabbed her shoulder, and another went over her mouth. The hand on her shoulder vanished. She froze, feeling the fingers on her lips so she couldn't yell, and heard a torch lighted. Then there was a cry of surprise as light flooded through the passage.  
  
She twisted away, ready to run, ready to scream, but the hand grabbed her shoulder again, and she looked into the startled face of an elf with silver- gold hair not unlike her own.  
  
Before she could take time to think, she gasped out three words, 'Who are you?'  
  
'I think I could ask you the same thing,' the elf said grimly. 'My name is Legolas Greenleaf. I've taken over the management of Ithilien and its caves since the passing of Faramir and Eowyn. Who in Elbereth are you and what are you doing here?'  
  
Legolas! The King's friend from the War! She felt tears sting her eyes. The words again left her mouth before she could stop them. 'Let me go! I have to find my brother!'  
  
Legolas' grip on her shoulder loosened slightly, and again he looked extremely startled. 'You're Elenya,' he said softly, almost disbelievingly. 'Dear Elbereth! Everyone in the City's been wondering whether you're even alive anymore.'  
  
'I don't have enough food,' she muttered, 'and I don't care.' Her voice rose sharply. 'I've got to find Vildir, they took him and they might even kill him! I've got to find my brother!'  
  
'I can't let you go, Elenya Telcontar. I've got my orders from the King Elessar. You're going to have to stay with my men and I until someone can escort you back to the City. I'll hear what you know or think later. We've searched here for Vildir, and your father is rumored to be searching the White Mountains. I'm sorry.' He truly sounded it.  
  
He began to steer Elenya back the way she'd come. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she struggled, but he kept his hand on her shoulder. 'Vildir, no!' she screamed, but her brother was too far away to hear.  
  
+++++  
  
The indiscernible days and nights seemed to get colder and longer. They were certainly more silent. Tahir had spoken very little since the conversation about where home was, and what he had spoken were commands in a monotone. Get back from the fire. Go to sleep. Eat this.  
  
Vildir was beginning to wonder whether anyone would come. Not only to help him, either. Tahir seemed insane sometimes, utterly mad, and the boy wondered whether he truly had a master, or whether he was doing this himself.  
  
Sometimes, he would imagine that he heard another voice, but he could not place it. He was beginning to forget.  
  
+++++  
  
To King Elessar Telcontar Minas Tirith and his family From Legolas Greenleaf Ithilien  
  
I have Elenya. I found her in the caves, and brought her to our post. She is extremely upset, but unhurt. She says she knows where he is, but refuses to lead anyone there, saying they might hurt Vildir. Your Majesty, she has never been in the caves, and we have searched them extensively. We have had to restrain her. She has tried to run away three times, and I only found her about an hour ago.  
  
Please send a message immediately. I do not know what to do.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed, for more than an hour before Gwalas found him. The Elf came up behind him silently, and Celebros looked up over his shoulder, looking like a child for a moment. 'Morning,' he said hoarsely.  
  
Gwalas nodded breifly. 'How are you doing?' he asked quietly.  
  
'Not so good,' Celebros admitted, looking down again. 'I'm worried about the kids. I'm leaving, Gwalas. I'm going to Ithilien. If I can help them...Elenya might know. She might really know. If she does, I don't want to make the mistake of doubting her.'  
  
Gwalas nodded. 'You do what you have to do,' he said softly. 'How's Aeargil holding up?'  
  
'Better, I think,' Celebros said thoughtfully, his voice still hoarse. 'Knowing that El's okay, I suppose. I sent a message to Eldarion. He doesn't know anything about what's been happening...with the assassin...'  
  
'When are you going?'  
  
Celebros stood. 'Now, actually,' he said. He looked at his friend for a moment, then embraced him. 'Wish me luck.'  
  
'Good luck,' Gwalas said, knowing his voice sounded hollow. He watched Celebros kiss his hand and set it on the grass next to where he had sat, and turn and walk away without another word.  
  
The Elf stood where the young Man had sat for a long time, staring at the words on the stone near where he had set his hand.  
  
Earil Eanar  
  
And then, in Sindarin:  
  
He is with them now  
  
Just as he is with us.  
  
+++++  
  
'Celebros.'  
  
The voice came from near the half-open door, and Celebros started. He turned and looked slightly guiltily at his grandfather. Nodding a bit, the young man looked uncertain.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
The King came into the room slowly, over to where Celebros stood next to his cloak and his saddlebag. 'Are you sure you want to do this?'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros insisted almost defiantly. 'I have to. I...if they're out there, I have to help them.'  
  
King Elessar looked at him levelly and silently for a moment, then nodded.  
  
'I'm worried about all of my grandchildren, Celebros,' he said. 'Don't forget that assassin. We're not out of danger yet.'  
  
Celebros nodded, and the King spared him another glance before leaving the room.  
  
+++++  
  
Elenya alternated between figiting, crying, and sleeping for the first few hours.  
  
Then she stopped, and decided she had to do something.  
  
Just running away was not an option - she had tried that already, and failed. No, a planned escape was necessary. She needed to put more thought into it, and more than anything, she needed it to succeed.  
  
There were two guards stationed outside her stone room. It was a guest room, and quite elegant, but she couldn't get out of it.  
  
About eight hours after she had arrived in the room, there was a knock on the door, and a boy opened it, looking about fourteen and very uncertain.  
  
'You're Elenya Telcontar?' he asked.  
  
She nodded, looking away.  
  
'I'm Telmir,' he said quietly. 'Legolas said you were here, but I didn't know if it was true.'  
  
'Who are you?' she asked.  
  
'Faramir son of Denethor and Eowyn daughter of Eomund were my parents,' he said, a bit curtly.  
  
She nodded. 'I'm sorry,' she said.  
  
'It's all right,' he said. 'Can I come in?'  
  
'Yes.' She looked up at him, a bit reluctantly, then, and he smiled weakly.  
  
'I'm sorry about all this,' Telmir sighed. 'I hate it. I wish they'd let you go. They sent a letter to your mother and your grandfather. We ought to have a response by -'  
  
Another knock, and Telmir looked up. 'Now,' he said, sounding startled. He walked over, opened the door, muttered something, and shut it, holding a sheet of paper in his hand. He handed it to her, and she read it out loud.  
  
To Legolas Greenleaf and Elenya Telcontar Ithilien From King Elessar Telcontar Minas Tirith  
  
Legolas and Elenya - Celebros is on his way. He has sent a message to Eldarion as well. He should be there within two days. I believe that Elenya may truly know where Vildir is, but under no circumstances release her, Legolas. Elenya, don't worry about Vildir. We're going to find him. Celebros sends Telmir his regards.  
  
Elenya fell silent, staring at the letter, and then looked up at Telmir.  
  
'You know Celebros?' she asked, sounding surprised.  
  
+++++  
  
The messagehawk fluttered out of nowhere, landing on Eldarion's shoulder and reassuring him that there was no chance of sleep that night.  
  
Dear Eldarion,  
  
First things first. They've found El in Ithilien. She's very upset, and seems to think Vildir's there. Your father's sent a message there. Legolas and Telmir and the others are holding her there. She keeps trying to get away. She refuses to go with someone else, saying it would alarm anyone with Vildir.  
  
Second, and less imminent. A few days after Vildir was taken, I was walking home, at night. I was cornered by a masked man with a knife. I don't think it was an assassin, I think he was trying to capture me. Gwalas came in time for me to get away with only a small slash in my side. Around the same time, an assassin tried to kill your father. Pernathos was with him and took an arrow in his leg to save the King. Your father wasn't hurt.  
  
I'm headed immediately to Ithilien. Please try to get there as soon as you can as well. I have a feeling there isn't much time.  
  
Love,  
  
Celebros Ithilron Telcontar - and scribbled hastily after that, as if a forgotten necessity - Caladinsson  
  
+++++  
  
Elenya lay on the bed in silence as Telmir paced next to her. He was speaking in a hushed voice, as he always had when discussing the situation during his visits over the past four days.  
  
'I don't know what to do. I don't want you to get hurt. But Vildir - we can't just leave him - and I can't come, they've already got their eyes on me. I've been causing trouble, I suppose, since Mother and Father died. I've tried to run, yes, to go to Minas Tirith. And I took wine from the cellars once. It wasn't for me, it was for Tegatchin, he's old enough and everything but he was sick, and he wanted some. But they found me bringing it to him and thought I'd taken it for myself.  
  
Elenya looked up, curious. 'Did you tell them?'  
  
'No,' Telmir said, looking a bit surprised. And then, worridly, 'Do you think I should have?'  
  
'I wouldn't have,' she said honestly. 'I don't know why.'  
  
'It's not like us,' he said slowly, nodding. She looked up at him sharply. The only other person who had ever referred to her as part of and 'us' that she could remember was Vildir. He met her eyes.  
  
She didn't say anything for a moment, then looked away. 'Will you help me get out of here?'  
  
Looking at the floor, Telmir nodded slowly.  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir sat alone for the first time in uncountable days. Tahir had gone somewhere. He hadn't answered when Vildir asked where. And for the first time since arriving in this cold miserable place, he cried. He cried for his family, but more so he cried because he had realized, quite suddenly, that he was never going to see them again. He tried to crawl across the room, to stoke the fire or to escape out the passage or to do something, choking out sobs from his misery and from the agony in his leg. It had healed most of the way, but it was twisted - twisted os that he was half- crippled. He would never be a soldier, and he would never run in the long grasses, and he would never manage to dismount like his father did - like a rider. But worse than that was that it would never matter, because he would never get a chance to do any of those things again.  
  
He closed his eyes, collapsing back against the wall, crying harder than he could ever remember crying, feeling a cold fear in him and missing his family. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, imagining Father's face, and Mother's, and Elenya, little El, looking at him like he was the only person in the world, looking up to him. He swore to himself then, silently, that he would never forget how she looked.  
  
But when he opened his eyes, he realized with a sudden shock that he wouldn't have to hold that picture in his head. A twisted version of it was standing in front of him - twisted because her face was dirty, and because she was crying, and because she was standing in front of him and staring at him, holding a torch in her hand that was now no more than a spark.  
  
+++++  
  
'Celebros!'  
  
He whirled around, his cloak billowing behind him in the awful wind. Telmir was there, and the boy was running towards him. As he came nearer, Celebros could see that his eyes were filled with tears and he was half- sobbing.  
  
'Sorry, I'm sorry; Celebros, I let her go, I let her go, she told me she knew, I -'  
  
'Oh, Elbereth,' Celebros whispered, and put a hand on Telmir's shoulder, pushing him slightly ahead of himself in his hurry. 'When? How long ago?'  
  
'Yesterday evening,' Telmir choked. 'Legolas doesn't know it was me, he just knows she's not here. But now I'm afraid, I think she's -'  
  
'In danger,' Celebros finished, and their eyes met breifly before he nodded. 'It's done now, Telmir. Nothing to do but hope, and hurry.'  
  
+++++  
  
He couldn't speak, just stared at her, mouth half-open, eyes wide and filled with tears, and shaking his head slowly, back and forth.  
  
'Vildir,' she gasped, throwing herself to her knees next to him and crying. 'Are you all right? Where is he?'  
  
'I can't walk,' he forced, trembling. 'My leg was broken - it's healed twisted - he might be back any minute now.'  
  
'All right,' she whispered, wiping her eyes on a filthy sleeve. 'I'll help you.'  
  
He shook his head harder. 'No, El, no, he'll catch you, he'll get you too. Go get help, get someone else, someone - you can't, you've got to go. You know where I am now. You can't stay here.'  
  
'I can't -' she breathed, crying again, but he cut her off.  
  
'Leave me here!' he hissed. 'Leave me here, there's nothing you can do now. It's -'  
  
'Shut up, Vildir! Don't be stupid! Elbereth! No way I'm going to leave you here!' She brushed his hair back, touching his cheek with her palm. 'You're my brother.' He was startled. Elenya never talked like this.  
  
'El, when you were born Father told me I'd be responsible for you when we were older. That it was my job to make sure you were safe if he wasn't there to do it. This is what he meant. You could die, right now. If he comes back - Elenya, it's Tahir.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Tahir. The one who kidnapped Celebros in Methnan. He's dangerous, and all you're doing now is helping him, now for Elbereth's sake get out of here!'  
  
Elenya didn't move. 'Vildir, I know these caves well enough. I can get you out of here.'  
  
'He knows them better. And he's supposed to be bringing someone else - it could be anyone, El. He said his master would come - it could be Galadon, El!'  
  
'You think I'm going to leave you here if Eldurhir's on his way?' she whispered. 'Here. Take my hand. I'll help you up.'  
  
Vildir looked at her and shook his head.  
  
'Do you want to die?' she hissed. But Vildir was looking over her shoulder now, and she turned slowly to find a man with curly light hair and green eyes staring at her levelly.  
  
'I don't really think it matters whether he wants to,' Tahir said calmly, twirling a knife between his fingers. 'Do you, Elenya Telcontar?'  
  
+++++  
  
'I want to come.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'It's my fault she's -'  
  
'So you think that makes it right to endanger yourself? No, Telmir. You're staying. Legolas would never let you come, anyway. Your parents -'  
  
'They're dead, Celebros,' Telmir said loudly. 'They're dead and the children aren't yet. And what if you need help?'  
  
'If I need help, it'll be because of something over your head. If I don't need help, I don't need to endanger you.'  
  
'How well do you know the caves?'  
  
'No, Telmir. I don't know the caves. I know the children.' Celebros turned around and clapped the boy on the shoulder, looking him in the eyes. 'If Eldarion comes,' the young man said, 'tell him I've gone after the children and to follow my trail. He'll know what to look for. And tell him to be ready for trouble.'  
  
Telmir watched him turn and walk briskly away, into the caves.  
  
+++++  
  
'Let him go.'  
  
'Eh?' Tahir said, turning to the little girl. His eyes shifted to Vildir, who was lightly asleep, and then back to Elenya, who was wrapped in a heavy blanket and sitting curled in a ball against the stone.  
  
'Let him go. Keep me here if you want to, but let my brother go.'  
  
Tahir looked at her evenly for a moment, then shook his head. 'He'd never make it out.'  
  
'Then take him out.'  
  
'And have him lead all of Gondor down on me? No.'  
  
'Move.'  
  
Tahir laughed. 'Where?'  
  
'Somewhere else. I don't know. Just let Vildir go. He never did anything to you.'  
  
'How do you know?' Tahir asked sharply. 'You don't know anything about what's happened since I took him.'  
  
'But before then, what had he done to you?'  
  
'He hated me. He told me so, as a matter of fact. For what I did to your cousin.'  
  
'Mother and Father never told us everything about Celebros.'  
  
'But I did. Do you want to hear it?'  
  
'No. I know enough. I've figured it out, and I've listened to Father talk when he thought I was asleep.'  
  
'Have you now?' Tahir said, raising his eyebrows. 'How curious. So you're willing to sacrifice yourself for your brother?'  
  
'What are you going to do to him?'  
  
'I'm going to give him to my...my employer, you could say. What happens from there is not my concern.'  
  
'So if he kills Vildir, you won't care?'  
  
'I probably won't even know.'  
  
'And me?'  
  
'You weren't requested. You might be taken with your brother in any case. Or I suppose you might be left with me. I don't know what I'd do. I couldn't exactly give you back.'  
  
'You talk about us like we're not...anything,' she whispered.  
  
'Are you?' Tahir asked. Elenya didn't answer for a moment.  
  
'Just let him go,' she said quietly. 'Let him live, and give me to your master instead. Anything he wants, any ransom or information, will be as much from me as he'd get from Vildir.'  
  
'Would it?' Tahir said, and smiled coldly. 'Then the two of you might fetch twice as much, eh?'  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros' hand trailed behind him slightly, feeling the wall, perhaps for false security more than anything else. His torch was going out - the air in this part of the caves was awful - and he was feeling a terrible wrench in his heart every time it flickered down to less and less - as if with the light went his hope.  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir woke to find Elenya sitting next to him and Tahir pacing by the fire.  
  
'Who is he?' Elenya was asking. She turned and looked at her brother breifly as his eyes opened, then back at Tahir.  
  
'The one who wants your brother is more than you can imagine.'  
  
'Do we know of him?'  
  
Tahir smiled. 'Him, you keep saying. You are sure it is a he that wants your brother?'  
  
She gasped. 'You mean...'  
  
'I never said that. I only asked if you were sure.'  
  
She shook her head slowly, looking at Vildir from the corner of her eye.  
  
'Well,' Tahir continued, 'you made me an offer before. Is it still open?'  
  
'What?' Vildir whispered disbelievingly, staring in horror at his sister.  
  
'Yes,' Elenya said. 'Shut up, Vildir. I know what I'm doing.'  
  
'I promised Father I'd take care of you!'  
  
'It doesn't matter now. There's nothing to be done.'  
  
'Elenya, you can't.'  
  
'Watch me,' she hissed, and turned to Tahir. 'The offer is still open. Let him go.'  
  
'No!' Vildir gasped, struggling with both hands against the wall to stand. 'Let her go. Let her go now - it's me that's asked for - not her - your...employer doesn't need Elenya, just let my sister go, let her go! El, just go, damn you -' He was on his feet now, fighting to stay standing, blood seeping from his hands as he tried to support himself against the rough stone - and he let go of the wall with one hand and pushed her away hard, sobbing, falling to the floor as he did so.  
  
And Elenya stood there for what must have been an eternity, watching him fall to the floor, and looking down at the bloody handprint on her arm, and then turning, and running.  
  
Behind her, she heard Vildir scream again, 'Run!' And as she ran, she cried back over her shoulder, 'I'm sorry! I'll try to bring help, I'll -'  
  
Later, she wouldn't remember the running, the running blindly or the crying in the dark. She wouldn't remember the endless time spent trying to keep going. But she would remember stopping, and breathing hard and fast, and looking at the bloody print of her brother's hand on her shoulder, and then wondering how she could see it. It was too dark to see, and the light...  
  
A torch.  
  
And there was no sound except her own breathing and crying...  
  
A gasp and a cry. 'El?'  
  
And as she looked up, she realized just how ignorant she had been.  
  
'Celebros!'  
  
+++++  
  
'Stay here, all right, El? Stay here, and I'll go on and get Vildir.'  
  
Elenya nodded slowly, looking at him as if she was much younger than she actually was. He stood and turned, but she started up. 'Celebros?' she called.  
  
He twisted around to look at her. To his startlement, she was crying, and he came back to where she was. She hugged him, and whispered in his ear, 'Be careful.'  
  
'I will be,' he assured her, and was gone.  
  
+++++  
  
The sound of footsteps came from the tunnel, and Vildir twisted around. Tahir smiled coldly, reaching to draw his sword and then pausing.  
  
Celebros froze in the doorway, staring at him. 'Tahir,' he breathed, shaking his head. 'It was you? What do you want them for?'  
  
The straw-haired man shook his head as well, mockingly. 'Celebros, Celebros, Celebros,' he sighed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. 'Certainly, it's been fun, explaining to Vildir his family history, but any moment now, the one who wants him will be here. It wasn't me at all. I was only following orders.'  
  
Celebros glanced down at Vildir, who was shivering and looking up at his cousin from near the wall. 'Orders,' he said flatly. 'Whose?'  
  
'No, not Galadon's,' Tahir said, waving a hand. Celebros almost started. 'No, I work more independently than that. I work for who asks for my skills. My current supervisor isn't one you know of, I should think. She works under yet a greater organization, and they want Vildir.'  
  
'The Galadil,' Celebros said flatly, looking down at Vildir, fingers tightening around his sword hilt. The boy was staring at him, eyes wide with fear and pain and horror. His mouth moved silently, and Celebros relaxed slightly. Without taking his eyes off Tahir, he moved toward Vildir and set a hand on his shoulder.  
  
'What?' he asked his young cousin in a half-whisper.  
  
'Can't,' Vildir choked, grabbing at Celebros' wrist.  
  
'Can't what?'  
  
'Go.' There was a silence, and then Vildir continued. 'You. You have to go. I can't...can't walk... You can't be taken. He said. He told me about them. About everything. If she sees you...take you to them...Father and Mother...everyone would die.' Celebros knelt slowly, and Vildir touched the back of his cousins' neck. The young man flinched. 'Sorry,' Vildir whispered. 'But he told me. I know about everything. You've got to go or everything's done...nothing matters...'  
  
'No,' Celebros said, forcing calmness into his voice. 'Take my hand, Vildir. I'll help you up.'  
  
Slowly, Vildir extended his hand. Celebros stared at it a moment in horror - at the drying blood from where the stone had gashed it - then took it firmly and helped the boy to stand waveringly.  
  
Celebros held out his sword. 'I'm taking Vildir home, Tahir,' he said, his voice like frozen metal. 'Move against the wall.'  
  
'You may have a sword,' Tahir hissed, 'but I am not unarmed -' And a small knife flew from his fingers.  
  
Celebros reached out his hand, and time seemed to stand still.  
  
He caught it, by the handle, stared at it a moment, then dropped it.  
  
Tahir stared at him for a moment in fascination and disbelief. 'How...' he began weakly.  
  
'No,' Celebros said. 'Why. Because of what you tried to do, and what you did do.'  
  
Tahir backed up against the wall, and Celebros nodded. He turned slowly toward the exit to find it blocked.  
  
It was a young woman, her hair black and her eyes a startling brown. She had Elenya's collar in one hand - El was standing silently, a livid bruise on her cheek along with tears - and in the other she was holding a dagger that was pointed directly at Celebros' throat.  
  
She pushed Elenya to the ground. The girl stared resentfully at her, and scampered over to Vildir, standing next to him. 'Let go of the boy,' she said in a voice that was wind and velvet and coarse leather. Celebros looked at his cousins. Elenya took Vildir's hand to support him, and Celebros let him go.  
  
'Now,' the woman said, 'over there. Against the wall. Get away from there, Tahir.' The woman motioned with the blade. She moved into the light, and Celebros looked at her, teeth gritting together. She was wearing a skintight black material that looked like leather but more glossy, and that did not cover her arms or the bottom half of her calves. Her hair was drawn back into a long plait, and her skin was tanned dark, as if from long days in the sun. Her muscles were toned from several years of manual labor, and her face was twisted into an expression of contempt and yet approval.  
  
'Who are you?' Celebros asked, feeling a vague sense of familiarity. He had sheathed his sword and backed with the children toward the wall. He watched Tahir approach her and go down on one knee, kissing her hand. 'M'lady,' he said. She waved him away with one hand.  
  
'You've done well,' she said to him carelessly, approaching Celebros. 'Shut up, Telcontar. What does a name matter?'  
  
'I've seen you somewhere,' he whispered. The children looked at him, suddenly frightened for no reason and every reason. Without meeting their eyes, only staring at her, he put a hand on either of their shoulders.  
  
'I doubt that,' she smirked. 'I've only seen you once. And you had no idea I was there.' There was a pause, and then she added, 'What does it matter? My name is Erea, daughter of Earil. Learn to revere it, Telcontar.'  
  
Celebros sank slowly to the floor, eyes haunted. He closed them, and let out a shuddering breath, then opened them again.  
  
'He thought you were dead,' the young man whispered. 'You had a gravestone. He thought you were dead. He knew you were dead.'  
  
'What in Morgoth's name are you talking about?' she asked harshly.  
  
'Elbereth, you're dead!' Celebros half-yelled. Vildir winced. 'You're dead! You've been dead for years!'  
  
'Telcontar -' Erea began warningly, but he cut her off.  
  
'Your father,' he said, shaking all over. 'Your father was Earil, son of Eanar. He was married to Isilphir.'  
  
'Was?' she said, trying to sound curious. He could see in her eyes that she didn't know.  
  
'They're both dead,' he said hoarsely, shaking his head. 'And so are you. Elbereth! He cried over your grave for hours, and nothing and no one could comfort him. He prayed for your soul every night. Every night since you vanished! Do you have any idea what you did to him? To them? He said Isilphir died of a broken heart when you left.'  
  
'You knew my father?' she asked quietly in a trembling voice. Tahir was staring at her.  
  
'M'lady -' he started, but she held up a hand.  
  
'Answer me, Telcontar. Did you know my father?'  
  
'Yes,' Celebros whispered. 'He was like my brother, until he died.'  
  
She was silent a moment, and then she turned to look at Tahir. 'Take the children to our arranged meeting place. I'll meet you there in an hour. I...' She paused. 'I want a word with him.'  
  
Tahir nodded curtly, but Celebros curled an arm protectively around each of the children's shoulders.  
  
'You touch them,' he hissed, 'and I'll kill you.'  
  
'Your sword is sheathed,' Erea said derisively.  
  
'Tahir isn't the only one with hidden blades,' Celebros said. Suddenly he hand one knife in either hand and his eyes were like blades themselves. They blazed with fury and hatred. 'All it takes is one,' he continued, moving forward. Vildir gasped, and Elenya caught him before he fell. Celebros didn't even seem to notice. 'One blade, and this is over, and the three of us go home.'  
  
'Telcontar -' Erea began, holding out her sword. There was a flash, and she cried out. The blade had been struck from her hand, and it fell to the floor in three pieces. Tahir groped for his sword, and Celebros pointed one of the knives at him.  
  
'Don't. Even. Think. About. It.'  
  
'Celebros!' Elenya cried out, but her cousin shook his head.  
  
'I'm sorry, El. Not now. Move. Get Vildir out of here. I'll cover the two of them.'  
  
Elenya pulled one of Vildir's arms over her shoulder and helped him out. Their footsteps faded.  
  
'All right,' Celebros hissed. 'Now, Erea, what did you want to know?'  
  
'M'lady -'  
  
'Shut up, Tahir,' she hissed, and turned to Celebros. 'You first. What did you want to know?'  
  
Celebros shuddered slightly. 'Why?' he asked, in a voice filled with pain and anger and great, great sadness.  
  
Erea didn't answer for a moment. 'I was kidnapped,' she said, looking Celebros in the eye hard. She was telling the truth. 'But as to why I didn't come back? I killed them. I had Father's knife in my boot, and I killed the two men who kidnapped me. I couldn't go home after that. I had killed, Telcontar. I had taken a human life...if you could call those scum human. They were going to sell me into slavery in the North. So I went to Eryn Lasgalen. I was going to go the the Halls of the Elven-King there, but I was taken by the Galadil. I begged them to let me join them. I could be a part of a whole there, and I wouldn't be persecuted for killing those men. I was a child. They took me to their Council, and I pleaded. I asked them if I could spy. No one would suspect a human would be a spy or a worker for them. They agreed.  
  
'I've worked under them for years, and I agree with their morals whole- heartedly. I've kept my honor among them. I'm the only human to ever do so. I've earned a place in their circle. They told me they needed the other Telcontar boy. You're a legend among them, so I knew everything about your family. I think they rather hoped that I would get him to Headquarters and you would come to find him. They want to take you back and kill you, and I don't doubt that they will someday. All I did was what I was told to do, up to this point. I knew that I couldn't take him. I didn't have enough force or experience in cities. So I hired Tahir. That's it. That's everything.'  
  
Celebros stood for a while. Then, 'What did you want to know?'  
  
She shook her head, and looked down like an ashamed child. Then, looking up uncertainly, 'Where is my father buried?'  
  
+++++  
  
Talking in quiet voices and crying, Elenya and Vildir moved slowly through the tunnel and waited for something else to happen.  
  
As it turned out, it was not a long wait. There were footsteps ahead, and Elenya pushed herself and Vildir up against the wall. There was a silence as they both tried to hold their breath, and then a voice. 'Who's there?'  
  
There was a silence, and then from around a bend they could see the light of a torch.  
  
The light emerged, and following it was Eldarion. He gasped, and put a hand to his mouth, and then he was in front of them and hugging them and all three of them were sobbing.  
  
There was a babble of talk, and then Eldarion paused. A silence fell, and he whispered, 'Where's Celebros?'  
  
+++++  
  
'I could show you, if you'll come.'  
  
'What?' Tahir said, looking from Erea to Celebros. Her eyes were fixed on him.  
  
Erea looked at the ground. 'I don't know if I...' she whispered. 'I'm a criminal, Telcontar. I've done things...'  
  
'Such as?'  
  
'Those men that I killed, years ago. Then I've kidnapped people. I've spied and brought information.'  
  
'Was it you in charge of those...those men in the City?'  
  
Erea looked up sharply. 'What are you talking about?'  
  
'Someone tried to kill my grandfather and to kidnap me.'  
  
'I don't believe you.'  
  
Celebros lifted his shirt to show the fresh scar on his side. 'That one,' he said, pointing at it gingerly.  
  
'Elbereth,' Erea breathed. 'There's so many, you could have gotten it anywhere!'  
  
'This one's new, Erea, the rest are old. Very old.'  
  
'Eldir,' she said, and he nodded. 'I've had my moments with him, I'd say. Right after you were taken, when he came back shamed. Well, almost a year later, really. He asked who I was, and tried to kill me. Got in a blow, too -' She carefully touched her upper arm, where Celebros saw a long, thin, pale scar. 'But so did I, on his face. I never saw him again. Most of us think he's dead - that they killed him for failing. And then vanishing.'  
  
'Erea, come to Minas Tirith with me. Yes, you'll be put in jail, but those two men were criminals and it was long ago. I can help - I can take you out once a week or so -'  
  
'How long will I be in?' she asked quietly. 'At the least?'  
  
Celebros looked at the ground and shifted. 'I think the two of you could get a seven-year sentence, if I try at it.'  
  
Tahir stared at him in disbelief. 'No,' he said. 'No, I'm leaving. I'm not going to jail for -'  
  
Celebros flipped one of the blades in his hands. 'But frankly,' he hissed. 'The two of you kidnapped my cousins, and you don't have much of a choice. Come on.'  
  
+++++  
  
'What am I supposed to do?' Eldarion cried. 'I can't leave you - but Celebros - Elbereth only knows who those two are -'  
  
'No, Father,' Vildir cut him off, shaking his head. 'I know who they are. And so does Celebros. And you, El. You even know of them.'  
  
Eldarion whitened. 'Is it -'  
  
'Not the Galadil,' Elenya said, shaking her head. 'Tahir of the North.'  
  
'And?' their father whispered, eyes actually frightened.  
  
'And Erea,' Vildir said softly, 'daughter of Earil.'  
  
Eldarion stepped back into the wall. 'The girl?' he whispered, not seeming to be asking them. 'Earil's lost girl?'  
  
Elenya looked at the ground and nodded.  
  
'Celebros will trust her,' the Prince whispered, despair etched over his face. 'To some degree, anyway - am I wrong? Did it seem like that to you - like she wasn't just anyone else?'  
  
'Yes,' Elenya breathed, 'I suppose.'  
  
Eldarion slammed his fist against the stone and cried out in frustration and misery. There was a silence then. And the sound of footsteps coming from the way Eldarion had.  
  
'Get back!' he hissed, holding his torch before him.  
  
+++++  
  
'Well,' Tahir said, nodding slowly. 'That's how it is? This is it?' He looked around the small cave in a cornered sort of way. 'Do you have any idea who I am?' he asked, looking suddenly determined. Erea was extremely tense. She glanced quickly at Celebros, but he shook his head just as quickly.  
  
'Going to form a plan?' Tahir hissed. 'Going to look at each other and know what the other one's thinking? Going to kill me? Going to kill me and leave my body here? Go home, Telcontar. Go home and tell your cousin you killed me. Do you think he'll rejoice? Think again. How well do you know him? How well do you know Vildir?' There was a long silence, and then, 'I told him everything. Everything you never did. How about that, eh? He was so hurt, Telcontar, that his own family didn't trust him. He didn't know about the war. About the Galadil. About Rilhir's story.'  
  
'What?' Celebros gasped.  
  
'You never told him so he didn't know.'  
  
'But Eldarion and Aeargil -'  
  
'- didn't want the little brat to grow up. They wanted to keep him a little boy forever, a little, naieve, stupid boy - but when I told him the truth? He thanked me, eventually, when he saw that it was the truth. He thanked me for being honest when his own family wouldn't.  
  
'And did he cry at night?' Erea asked suddenly. 'Did he cry at night? Did he tell you he wanted to go home? Did he beg you? Did he talk of the City to you? Did he tell you he hated you? Did he, Tahir of the North?'  
  
'I did this for you!' Tahir shouted. 'I took him for you and now look where it's got us!'  
  
'You weren't careful enough. You let the girl follow. And you did this for yourself. You wanted my money.'  
  
'I didn't let the girl follow -'  
  
'Did you hide your tracks or leave false trails as I instructed you?'  
  
Tahir looked mutinous. 'I am not your pupil!'  
  
'You are my worker. You were to do as you were told.'  
  
'But he didn't let El follow,' Celebros interrupted calmly. 'She just did.'  
  
'He wasn't careful enough -'  
  
'He was plenty careful. But as long as Elenya knew her brother was alive - and she knew, trust me - she could tell where he was. They're connected. They're special.'  
  
'They're special,' Tahir mimicked cruelly. 'Do you have any idea why the Galadil wanted that boy?'  
  
Celebros didn't answer.  
  
'Because he was connected to you!'  
  
There was a long silence, and then Celebros' face twisted. He moved like lightning, and hurled Tahir against the wall with bone-crushing force. His knife was at the man's throat and he was breathing hard.  
  
'Liar!' he breather. 'You filthy bastard, they'd want him even if I wasn't here, even if they'd killed me, even if I was never born, because I didn't tell them anything and they wanted that information!' He looked around at Erea, who was staring at him, eyes wide and startled and sad. 'Tell him!'  
  
She didn't say anything, and Celebros recoiled, backing against the opposite wall himself, almost gasping for breath. Tahir clutched his ribs, doing the same and supporting himself against the wall.  
  
'You left your back open,' Erea said quietly, as if it mattered. 'I could have killed you.'  
  
'For one thing,' Celebros said, steadying shaky breath and moving from the wall to stand in front of her, 'I would have heard you take out a knife. And for another, I trust you.'  
  
'What?' Tahir said disbelievingly. 'You -' But Celebros had a knife at his throat before he was a foot from the wall.  
  
'And I don't trust you,' he said quietly. 'Come on, both of you. We're going.'  
  
It was then that he made the mistake of sheathing one of his knives, and that Tahir unsheathed his own, leaping over to Erea and holding one at her throat, using her as a sheild.  
  
+++++  
  
An urgent voice was the one that echoed down the tunnel to Eldarion and the children. 'Who is it?' Before Eldarion could stop her, Elenya pulled away from him and started to run toward the voice. Telmir walked into the light as she reached the edge of it and she embraced him. Looking startled, and grinning sheepishly at Eldarion, he waited a moment.  
  
'You're Telmir?' Eldarion guessed as blandly as he could.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Elbereth,' the man said close to emotionlessly. 'I remembered you as smaller.'  
  
'Well, I was only a year old when you left.'  
  
'I'm sorry about your parents.'  
  
''s all right.'  
  
'How old are you?' Vildir asked, pulling a hand free of his father's and reaching out to shake it.  
  
'Eleven.'  
  
'You look older,' the other boy said suspiciously. Elenya nodded, looking oddly at Telmir.  
  
Telmir shook his head as if coming back to his senses. 'Celebros,' he said, not quite a question. Eldarion started.  
  
'Still back there - Telmir, can you take the children? Vildir's hurt. His leg was broken, healed twisted.'  
  
'Yes. Of course. But what if he went the second way?'  
  
'The...second way?'  
  
'There's a passage that branches off, but one of its branches leads back to this one, right near Ithilien.'  
  
'Then I'll take that one.' Eldarion handed Telmir his torch.  
  
'All right. Be careful.'  
  
'Father -' Vildir started, and Eldarion sank down onto his knees next to his son and embraced him hard.  
  
'I love you, all right?' Eldarion whispered in a tight voice. His eyes were squeezed shut. 'Both of you.'  
  
'Love you too, Father,' El whispered. Eldarion stood suddenly.  
  
'You be careful too,' he said to Telmir, and turned and strode into the darkness.  
  
+++++  
  
Several things happened at once. Erea screamed, and Tahir laughed wickedly. Celebros gasped, pointing his blade wildly at them but unable to hit Tahir without killing Erea as well.  
  
Erea's face changed into a mask of terror and she closed her eyes tight, whimpering over and over again, 'Elbereth, dear Elbereth, no.'  
  
'Let her go,' Celebros hissed. 'Let her go. It's me you want, isn't it?'  
  
'No,' Tahir spat. 'I want money. And freedom. And I'll get neither from -'  
  
'Her.'  
  
'And you want something other than freedom and money, don't you?' Celebros said softly. 'Tahir, let her go.'  
  
'And if I do?'  
  
Celebros' face was cold and hard for a moment, then it melted into impassiveness. 'Then you'll get your freedom.'  
  
'But the money,' Tahir said, his eyes grinning, cooly cocking an eyebrow. 'Where will I get that?'  
  
'Find a new employer, Morgoth take you, just let her go! There are less hazardous jobs than this, and there are safer things to be than wanted dead by my grandfather. Let her go and I will see to it that you are cleared of Vildir's kidnapping.'  
  
'No,' Erea whispered, stopping her half-prayer. 'No.'  
  
'Erea, don't,' Celebros pleaded, shaking his head.  
  
'No,' she whispered more urgently. 'You're not seeing me, Celebros Telcontar, for what I did. You're seeing me as my father's daughter, and I'm not good enough for you to judge me as that. He deserved better, and I don't deserve your trust.'  
  
'Don't say that.'  
  
'But it's true.'  
  
'Will you listen to that?' Tahir said in amusement. 'She doesn't want to be rescued by a tall dark and handsome. Could it be that -?'  
  
'Shut up, you bastard,' Erea whispered, and Celebros watched Tahir's wrist tighten. A thread of blood trickled down her throat. 'Telcontar, please. I don't want you to -' She shuddered. 'My father is dead and I betrayed him. You were the one he cared about in his last years, and you are the one he would want to live.'  
  
'No,' Celebros said simply. 'You're his daughter. You're his flesh and blood. You think he was good? No, he never killed, but he joined the bandits on the fields, didn't he? Didn't you know that? Your father was a kidnapper. He stood by as other men killed my father. And I still loved him like a brother. Do you think I care that you're a criminal? You have a heart that can be good and strong, and the world needs more.'  
  
'No,' Erea repeated.  
  
'You move, Telcontar,' Tahir said softly, 'and she's dead. You hear?'  
  
'Don't do this!' Celebros shouted, and Tahir smiled. He took his knife from Erea's throat and pointed it at Celebros' heart.  
  
'All right then,' he said, smiling and looking at Erea, who was massaging her throat and staring at Celebros. 'You move, and he's dead.'  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir's arm was slung around Telmir's shoulder heavily, and he leaned on him hard. Elenya was on her brother's other side, tying a handkercheif over his eyes as he spoke.  
  
'I could just shut my eyes.'  
  
'Vildir,' Telmir said firmly, and Elenya was again struck by the thought that he seemed at least fourteen, 'do you have any idea how long it's been since you've seen the sun?'  
  
'No,' Vildir said simply, and neither of the other two spoke for a moment. 'It's been long enough for it to be dangerous for my eyes, apparently,' the boy added, and Telmir nodded shortly.  
  
+++++  
  
Tahir approached him slowly. 'Come on,' he said quietly.  
  
'Let her go.'  
  
'When I can get you both? No.'  
  
'Go, Erea!'  
  
Erea shook her head. 'He'll kill you. I can't go.'  
  
'You're a Valar-cursed Galadil!' Celebros screamed suddenly, and Erea flinched as if slapped. 'You're not supposed to have a heart! And you're supposed to hate me! So go and tell them I'm dead, all right?'  
  
'No,' Erea said. Tahir looked disgusted, and turned. He led them for a moment down the tunnel, then twisted to face Celebros and swung his fist back.  
  
Celebros didn't feel it connect, but he felt excruciating pain in his shoulder and his head as he hit the stone wall, and he heard Erea's scream.  
  
+++++  
  
Legolas had rushed over immediately, looking for all the world more worried than Telmir had ever seen him before. 'Aina Elbereth!' he cried. 'What happened? Vildir! Elenya!'  
  
Elenya and Telmir both winced, but Vildir twisted his head, unable to see.  
  
Legolas was next to them and on crouched before Vildir. 'Are his eyes hurt?' he asked rapidly.  
  
'He hasn't been in the sunlight for a long time. It could blind him,' Telmir said softly.  
  
'Good of you to remember some of your teachings,' Legolas said a bit sharply, and Telmir cringed. 'Where is Eldarion? And Celebros?'  
  
'Eldarion went to find Celebros,' Elenya said softly. 'Tahir, and Earil's daughter Erea - they were the ones.'  
  
'Elbereth Gilthoniel,' Legolas sighed. 'Eldarion is foolish. He could be walking into a trap.'  
  
Elenya would have nodded had the matter been about someone other than her father, and in other presence. Legolas was right.  
  
'What is wrong with your leg?' Legolas asked Vildir quietly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.  
  
'It was broken. It healed twisted. I can't - I can't walk right -' He started to cry and Elenya did too.  
  
'Your grandfather the King Elessar may be able to do something about it,' Legolas said gently. 'Not fix it entirely, perhaps, but somewhat. Does it hurt?'  
  
'No,' Vildir said softly. 'Nothing hurts. Everything feels numb. I'm tired.'  
  
Telmir glanced at the other boy. 'Elenya, can you help Vildir into the room where you stayed? We'll need to keep a guard on you again, in case they come here.' El nodded, and took Vildir's arm to let him lean on her. She helped him limp away, and Legolas turned to Telmir.  
  
'And as for you, young master Telmir,' Legolas said, 'as heroic as you have been, you directly disobeyed me. I have a feeling you helped Elenya out as well. She could have been killed. As punishment, when Eldarion and Celebros return, you will accompany them to Minas Tirith and report your failure to the King personally.'  
  
Telmir smiled weakly and nodded. 'All right,' he said.  
  
'You are not the Steward yet, my boy,' Legolas said kindly. 'I think sometimes you could do with considering things more rationally.'  
  
Telmir looked at the ground a moment, then looked up again, and in those seconds he had wiped his face clean. 'If I hadn't done what I had done, Vildir would be on his way to the Galadil now and Gondor would fall in a matter of weeks,' he said quietly, and turning away strode off the way El and Vildir had gone.  
  
As soon as he was out of earshot, Legolas began to laugh softly. 'Well done indeed,' he said, shaking his head, 'Your father is proud, wherever he is.'  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion sprinted down tunnel after tunnel until he thought he would collapse. Everything seemed the same and thoughts that he was going in circles crossed his head often. Celebros was nowhere and the children were, for the moment, as safe as they could be. Surely they had reached Ithilien by now -  
  
He tripped and fell hard to the ground, flat onto his face on the stones. For a moment he lay still, eyes closed, feeling his nose bleeding badly, wondering in a vague, detatched way if it was broken and, in the same way, deciding that it was not.  
  
Then he realized what precisely he had tripped over, and opened his eyes.  
  
It was relatively futile. The darkness was so close to complete that he couldn't actually see, actually tell. But he could see the outline of the shape on the floor, and the outline told him two things. It was Celebros. And he was breathing.  
  
That was what mattered, and wiping the blood from his face onto his sleeve, he lifted his nephew's form up with hardly a grunt and started to walk.  
  
Then he started to run.  
  
+++++  
  
He met Telmir half-asleep at the mouth of the cave, and cried out as light met his eyes, succeeding in waking the boy completely. He leapt to his feet. 'Celebros!' Telmir cried instantly. 'Is he all right?'  
  
'Don't know,' Eldarion said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. It hurt. 'Here. Help me. He needs...to get medical attention. Are Vildir and El all right?'  
  
'Both emotionally completely broken down,' Telmir said grimly and much more maturely than most eleven-year-olds could have managed. 'They're exhausted. And Vildir's seen and heard too much. They're both asleep, I think.'  
  
Eldarion looked away from him and nodded curtly. 'I could have stopped that,' he said in a tight voice as Telmir led him Elbereth-knew-where. 'If I had just listened -'  
  
'Now your son knows the truth,' Telmir said a bit harshly. 'You never had the heart to tell him. When did you plan on telling him? Can you imagine what his reaction would be? He'd feel completely betrayed.'  
  
'He should have heard it from me. Or Aeargil.'  
  
'Damn straight, he should've,' Telmir forced. 'A hell of a lot before now.'  
  
'He wasn't ready to hear it.'  
  
'Do you know him at all?' Telmir asked softly. 'Do you have any idea what he's ready for? The truth is hardest when it's been hidden. He had the right to know.' There was a pause, and Eldarion realized they had stopped in front of a closed door. Telmir met Eldarion's steady gaze and then pushed it open. 'In there,' he said quietly, closing it without coming in once Eldarion was inside.  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir woke as the door opened, but Elenya remained fast asleep. It was Telmir, grimacing. 'Are they back?' Vildir asked at once, trying to scramble to his feet and then stopping abruptly.  
  
Telmir nodded. 'Celebros is unconcious. And Tahir and Erea weren't with him.'  
  
Vildir bit his lip hard. 'How bad is Celebros?'  
  
'Bad enough that he didn't come to on the way here. Bad enough to have your father worried.' Vildir looked at him levelly. Telmir elaborated. 'Bad.'  
  
'All right,' Vildir sighed, and there was silence for a moment. Then he looked down suddenly guiltily at his blankets, and then over at Elenya. 'No!' he moaned. 'I told her to keep it!' He glanced at Telmir. 'She gave me her blanket. I told her having the bed was more than enough! ' Telmir moved over to where Elenya lay, using a cloak as a poor pillow, and took her hand gently. 'She's freezing,' he groaned. 'Here. Give me that blanket.'  
  
Vildir did, face carefully neutral as he looked levelly at Telmir and very guilty when his eyes shifted to Elenya. Telmir covered her carefully with the blanket and then lay the back of his hand on her cheek.  
  
'She'll take a while to warm up,' he sighed. He looked back at Vildir. 'A bit too noble sometimes, she is.'  
  
Vildir nodded, his gaze sliding to Telmir and expression to blank. 'You like her,' he said quietly. It was most certainly not a question.  
  
Telmir looked up sharply, and then back down, and nodded slowly. 'Yeah,' he said, looking away. 'I guess so.'  
  
Vildir shrugged, and Telmir glanced up almost fearfully. The younger boy laughed. 'If I were you,' Vildir said, smiling reassuringly, 'I'd like her too.'  
  
Telmir's shoulders relaxed, and he closed his eyes and sighed. 'I thought you'd be angry or something,' he said, not opening his eyes. 'I mean, I'm more than three years older than she is.'  
  
Vildir shifted uneasily. 'If I was worried about it, I'd probably have done something a bit more...obvious.'  
  
'Like beating me up?'  
  
The other boy laughed again. 'For one thing, you've got two years and at least four inches on me, and for another...' His face fell. 'How would I? I can't even walk.'  
  
Telmir looked uncomfortable and was about to reply when the door swung open.  
  
It was Eldarion. 'He's waking up,' he said quickly, and Elenya opened her eyes sleepily. 'Come on.'  
  
+++++  
  
He was lying back on the white sheets, eyes closed, stirring weakly and breathing erratic.  
  
'Where's Erea?' Eldarion asked softly. 'Celebros?'  
  
Celebros moaned, and Elenya whimpered, clutching her cousin's hand. From between clenched teeth, Celebros whispered, 'I don't know.' Then he arced his back with a gasp, eyes opening wide, and then closed them again, squeezing them tight, mouth half-open in a silent scream of pain. Elenya was shaking, Telmir standing stiff and still next to Vildir's chair. Elenya's fingers were white around Celebros' hand.  
  
Eldarion lay a hand on Celebros' forehead, and slowly he relaxed, collapsing back onto the white sheets.  
  
It was then that Legolas came into the room, hurrying, his velvet moss- green robes swirling out behind him, his face unmasked worry.  
  
'What's wrong with him?' the Elf demanded hurridly. Eldarion tore his eyes from Celebros.  
  
'I'm not sure.'  
  
Legolas glanced breifly at the children, then came forward next to Elenya to look at Celebros searchingly.  
  
'Shoulder's dislocated,' he said after a moment. 'Possibly fractured as well. But that's not the most important thing. Look at his eyes, Eldarion. I think he's bleeding inside his head.'  
  
Elenya let out a half-gasp, half-sob, and Telmir shook his head in denial. Vildir, as he had been, just sat and stared.  
  
'Telmir, can you take Elenya and Vildir back to their room?'  
  
Telmir nodded, not looking away from Celebros.  
  
'Then come back here, all right?' Legolas said. Telmir nodded again, and helped Vildir stand reluctantly. Elenya released his hand, and the three of them moved away, looking back. 'Are you going to stay, Eldarion?'  
  
Eldarion nodded silently.  
  
+++++  
  
Telmir came back into the room slowly, almost reluctantly. Legolas was trying to appraise Celebros' situation more thoroughly. Celebros' eyes were open and his breathing was choppy from the pain. 'Your shoulder is dislocated badly,' Legolas was saying. 'The fracture is going to complicate it. I have to put it back, but I might compound it in doing so. And if you black out from the pain - which you may well -'  
  
Celebros moaned again, trying to look at his shoulder.  
  
The Elf looked around at Telmir. 'Come here,' he said quietly to the boy. 'It's all right.' Telmir did, and Legolas turned back to Celebros.  
  
'If you do black out, then I don't know what to do about the bleeding. If you do, you could die.'  
  
Telmir looked at Legolas, alarmed and frightened. Both of the adults' faces were grim and helpless, and Legolas' determined.  
  
'All right,' Eldarion said softly. His voice trembled, but he tried to suppress it. 'All right. Celebros, you need to hold on, all right? You need to stay concious.'  
  
Legolas cast around, and found a piece of leather. 'Bite on it,' he ordered, and Celebros did. 'Hard. This is going to hurt. But you need to hold on to conciousness. Your life may depend on it. Celebros, look at Eldarion. Don't look away. Try to think about the children.'  
  
Celebros looked first at Legolas, then at Telmir, and finally at Eldarion, and his teeth clenched on the leather.  
  
His muffled scream echoed around in the room. Telmir flinched, but Celebros' eyes were even wider open, and his jaws loosened. Legolas removed the leather.  
  
A set of toothmarks gouged deep into it.  
  
Celebros eyelids fluttered, and Eldarion was grasping his hand instantly. 'Celebros!' his uncle cried. 'No! Stay here! Stay awake, Morgoth take you! Elbereth, please!'  
  
Celebros looked dimly at his uncle, and Eldarion felt the hand tighten around his own for an instant.  
  
Then it loosened again - but it had been there.  
  
'All right,' Legolas said softly, shaking his head. 'I need help. Eldarion, how fast can your father get here?'  
  
'No,' Eldarion said, forcing the word out as if it were poison. 'There's no time, Legolas. You have to do this.'  
  
Legolas looked levelly at Eldarion for a moment, and anger flashed through his eyes. Then he sighed and nodded.  
  
'All right,' he said simply.  
  
+++++  
  
The infirmary door opened, and Legolas Greenleaf walked out of it with a sigh. He was exhausted, and looked out at the night sky and the almost- full moon with relief and uncertainty in his heart.  
  
Celebros had survived - and the procedure was over. The question was the end result. Would the young Man end up much for the worse? It seemed impossible that he would come out unscathed, of course.  
  
Telmir came out behind him. 'Legolas,' the boy said, a bit uncertainly.  
  
The Elf turned. 'Yes?'  
  
'How bad...could he be?'  
  
'At the worst, Telmir?'  
  
More uncertainty. Then a quiet, pained, 'Yes.'  
  
'He might be unable to speak, or his senses might be impaired. Or he might still die.'  
  
'Oh,' Telmir said softly.  
  
'Did you learn anything from watching?'  
  
'Yeah. I guess.'  
  
'Good. You should go sleep now.'  
  
'Yeah,' Telmir said, and moved away. Legolas didn't realize until he'd reached his own rooms that the boy had gone in the opposite direction as his room.  
  
+++++  
  
Vildir and Elenya were both still awake when Telmir came in, and their heads jerked up as one when he opened the door.  
  
'Is he all right?' Vildir asked, and Elenya overlapped him, 'How is he?'  
  
'He's unconcious. We don't know how he is except that he's alive.' Telmir's voice was a bit choked with the last bit: 'For now.'  
  
Vildir put his head in his hands. 'It's my fault,' he said in a muffled voice. 'If I'd've fought him - if I'd've snuck away while he was sleeping -'  
  
'You'd have been caught,' Elenya said, voice choked. 'Nothing that's happened is your fault, Vildir, nor any of ours.'  
  
'She's right,' Telmir agreed. 'I think Celebros will be all right.'  
  
'He's been through a lot worse,' Vildir said in a dull, would-be hopeful voice.  
  
Somehow that didn't comfort them.  
  
+++++  
  
Eldarion woke in a hard chair in semidarkness to find Celebros' eyes open. In less than the time in which you could blink he was out of the chair. 'Celebros, are you all right? Can you talk?'  
  
Celebros shrugged with one shoulder, very carefully avoiding using the other. 'I feel...don't know...' he said, voice very faint and hoarse but definite.  
  
'All right. All right.'  
  
'Water?'  
  
There was a filled cup on a small table next to him. He held it, tipping it slowly through Celebros' lips.  
  
'Thanks.'  
  
'You hungry?'  
  
'No.' There was a silence. 'The children?'  
  
'They're fine. Sleeping, I expect.'  
  
Celebros nodded, and then there was silence. It took Eldarion a moment to realize that Celebros was asleep again.  
  
+++++  
  
They left for the City the next day. Eldarion and Legolas both felt that they would be unable to safely wait for Celebros to improve. Vildir's leg also needed tending to.  
  
They sat around the fire after one day's ride toward Minas Tirith, Vildir with his leg carefully stretched out next to Eldarion, Celebros lying still a bit away from the fire behind Eldarion, Elenya sitting on Vildir's other side, and Telmir between her and Eldarion.  
  
There was silence, except for the occasional comment on the food Telmir had cooked - much better than I could have managed, really, Eldarion had said.  
  
Vildir yawned, shaking his head as if to ward off tiredness. Telmir glanced breifly at him, and then over at Eldarion. 'Will we reach the City tomorrow?'  
  
'No, the morning after, I expect. Or we could ride extra-hard to get there, but I don't think it would be good for you or for Celebros, and besides -' He stopped abruptly. 'They're not expecting us until morning after tomorrow. Legolas sent a hawk. They'll be there to greet us.'  
  
'I want to see Mother,' Elenya said in a small voice.  
  
'If we wait, she'll be there the moment we come in the gates. And I doubt your grandfather would be ready to -'  
  
They hadn't noticed Celebros move closer to the fire until he moved between Telmir and Eldarion and settled himself with a groan. 'Celebros,' Eldarion said carefully, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'You feeling all right?'  
  
The one-shouldered shrug. 'Relatively,' Celebros said, and looked somewhat amusedly down at the hand on his shoulder, then up at Eldarion, one eyebrow cocked. Eldarion removed it suddenly, remembering in an instant what that shoulder had been through.  
  
'Sorry,' his uncle said hastily.  
  
'It's all right. Doesn't really hurt, just a sort of thawing ache.'  
  
Vildir nodded from across the fire. Celebros shot him a weak grin, and then, 'Is there any of Telmir's much-applauded food left, or do I get to scavenge for rats?'  
  
Vildir half-smiled and passed Celebros a plate. He smiled as he looked down at it. 'I haven't had ham for a long time,' he said, cutting off a bit and biting it. 'This is good.'  
  
'It's not just any ham,' Telmir said boastingly. 'This is peppered ham. One of Mother's delicacies.' His face fell a little bit. 'And you rarely have it in Minas Tirith because we have all the hogs for meat in Ithilien.'  
  
Celebros smiled and continued to eat the peppered ham.  
  
+++++  
  
The City's wall seemed to come closer and closer in the early morning sun. It gleamed with a welcoming light. 'It's been a couple years since I visited,' Telmir whispered, awed. The Tower of Ecthelion was clearly visible in the background.  
  
Before long they were right before the gates, and from the sound behind them, half the City had gathered for their homecoming. Elenya glanced at Telmir, who was still wide-eyed with amazement, and leaned toward him. 'Isn't it amazing?' she whispered in his ear, and he nodded.  
  
The gates opened before them, and indeed people lined both sides of the street, cheering, coming forward around them as they moved towards the Inner City.  
  
After a while, when the first stable came into view, Eldarion dismounted, and Telmir right after him. The boy helped Elenya to dismount, and Eldarion helped Vildir. Celebros shook his head at their offers for help and dismounted himself carefully, keeping his dignity and staying on his feet, walking forwards.  
  
Eldarion moved over and spoke to a man in a stablehand's clothing, and when the other man nodded gave him the reins for the horses. Then the crowd thickened as they came to the gates of the Inner City. It seemed that none of the people were gathered in there, for as they neared the gate a silence fell, and Eldarion knew that his father was there.  
  
He also knew from the look on Vildir's face as Telmir helped him walk that his father would have to lead them directly to the Houses of Healing.  
  
The gates opened before them, and the people stayed back, letting them in and hoarsely crying out behind them as the gates closed.  
  
The noise from the Outer City fell down almost instantly, the cries ceasing to excited talking or worried murmers amongst themselves as they made their way back to their homes. Eldarion stopped suddenly, and Celebros already had, bowing his head to his grandfather.  
  
With an uncontainable smile the King came forward, clapping a hand on Eldarion's shoulder without a word and moving to Vildir and Celebros.  
  
'I got the messagehawk from Legolas. It was a rather long message, I must say,' King Elessar commented, as if unsure what to say.  
  
'Where's Mother?' Elenya asked in a small voice.  
  
'She's on her way here as we speak,' he said, turning to El with a breif smile. 'Cundariel and Tasarian arrived this morning. They'd heard about what happened from Greenwood and came immediately. She's coming with them.'  
  
Elenya nodded, and the King turned to Eldarion, drawing him aside for a moment. Telmir overheard what they said not quite by mistake.  
  
'How are they?'  
  
'Vildir's leg is very bad. And Celebros - you can never tell, with him.'  
  
'I know what you mean. But how bad do you think he is?'  
  
'Mostly just tired. We were very lucky, I think. I think Legolas did it right. He was very reluctant to.'  
  
'Not without reason.'  
  
'I know, but we couldn't wait. You have no idea how bad it was, Father. He was dying.'  
  
'He's been dying a few times too many,' the King said, shaking his head. 'I am beginning to think that he is closer to the center of the nearing war than they - and he himself, I suppose - want us to believe.'  
  
'What has been going on here?'  
  
'I am beginning to think that Rohan might be trouble again soon. I got an odd letter from Elfwine. No, don't give me that look. He hasn't been corrupted. But I'm fairly sure that Pernathos is right after all. It's his councillor. He's the corrupt one - a servant of Galadon perhaps, or of the Galadil.'  
  
'How is Pernathos?'  
  
'Better, but I still need to work more on his leg. He can walk, but not very well. If he had been a Guard when it had happened, I would have had to relieve him of duty for a year.'  
  
'All right. Father, can you do anything for Vildir?'  
  
The King looked at his son for a moment. Then, 'Yes,' he said simply. 'It might not be easy, of course, but I can. It will never be the same, though. I know this is hard for you to hear, Eldarion, but it may be months before he can walk again without help, and he may never run again. I don't know.'  
  
There was a clatter of footsteps from behind them, and Eldarion turned to see Aeargil running toward them - towards the children first, of course, and embracing Vildir and Elenya, speaking in fast and quick Sindarin. Gwalas, Cundariel and Tasarian came hurrying up behind her, and Celebros' face lit up. He grinned, and hugged each of the three of them. The Elves overlapped each other in asking anxiously if he was all right, and Celebros was laughing and reassuring them, and even Vildir seemed to be able to forget his leg for the moment. Celebros introduced Cundariel and her brother to the children. And Aeargil turned around and time seemed to stop, the rest of the world with its noise seemed to fade out as she came over to him - she might have walked, she might have run, she might not have even moved and he might have, but all he knew was that she had thrown her arms around him and he was holding her and they were both crying and crying.  
  
The world had gone wrong and everything was right.  
  
+++++  
  
It was noon, and two weeks had passed since the return to the City. Celebros spent a great deal of time alone, or with Telmir on occasion, and a great fraction of his waking hours and even some of his sleeping hours were spent in the graveyard. He had started to drink again - not much, but enough for the King and Eldarion and Telmir and the Elves to take note that there was generally one glass of wine in his hand when he was in his rooms.  
  
But now it was noon, and the family was gathered together with Snaga and Pernathos and Telmir and the Elves around a great table in the Hall, because today was a special day.  
  
The King stood, stopping the talk for at least a breif moment. Celebros looked slightly relieved - he had been engaged in a conversation with his mother's sisters.  
  
'Today is a day in which we celebrate a life,' the King said, his eyes smiling at Elenya. 'Today is the anniversary of the day on which one of our children, one of the Heirs of the King, came into this world. And no matter what this day is shadowed by, I would like to take a moment to drink whatever is in our cups to my granddaughter, who is eight years old today!' They did as was suggested, and Elenya, blushing, waited for the nod from her grandfather to stand. The redness faded from her cheeks and she looked at Celebros.  
  
'I was looking through some old records,' she said quietly, 'and I found something out that I think will be more important to some of you than to others. It's someone else's birthday today, too. So I'd like to propose a toast. To Erea.'  
  
'To Erea,' the rest of them echoed, some of them more reluctantly than others. Celebros stared down at his glass and drank deeply.  
  
Snaga, who had perhaps had a bit more to drink than he ought to have, said loudly enough for everyone to hear, 'Celebros, I don't believe that is cinnamon tea.' Telmir laughed and held up his glass, pointing to it. Continuing, the orc said, 'Let's compare yours to Telmir's cinnamon tea. Does anyone want to volunteer to test it?'  
  
To the great amusement of the table, Rillien, the younger of Malgil's two little sisters, stood up and announced, 'I'll test it!' (It was generally assumed later that both of the sisters had also had a bit too much to drink.)  
  
Rather loud laughter on Tariel's part, and then Telmir handed her his glass. She drained it, and then snatched Celebros'. She sniffed it first, rather mischevously, and then drained that, too.  
  
'THAT,' she said thickly and triumphantly, 'is most certainly NOT cinnamon tea.'  
  
Celebros shook his head in amusement, pulling the empty cup from his aunt's hand. 'That was, as a matter of fact, the last of the vintage wine from the Shire, 1296.'  
  
'Shire-wine?' the King said incredulously. 'Celebros, I drank that for years in the North and never once was able to get anything out of it.'  
  
'It tastes good,' Celebros said mutinously. 'And that was the last cup of the last bottle.'  
  
Rillien grinned widely.  
  
+++++  
  
Celebros sat later alone by the gravestone. 'Earil,' he said quietly, 'I know that somewhere out there, you can here me. And I wanted you to know something.'  
  
He paused.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he said at last. 'I'm sorry. And I'm going to find her or find out what happened to her. No matter what it takes.'  
  
+++++  
  
The night was silent and as cold as ever. He had at least fed her, and had fallen asleep again, leaving her tied. She had managed to determine, in any case, which direction they were headed, and to decide that it was not, in fact, to the Galadil. They were headed toward the Misty Mountains, she guessed, and then to exile or death in the caves there.  
  
She wished Telcontar were there. She had wanted to see her father's grave.  
  
But she couldn't, and she couldn't sleep, so instead she remembered.  
  
+++++  
  
She was standing in a great circle of Elves - all adult, all male, all proud and upright and disdainful.  
  
'Who are you and what is your purpose in trespassing?' the apparent leader demanded.  
  
'My name is Erea,' she said impassively. 'My purpose is to join you.'  
  
A memory from later came to her, and she had to stop herself from smiling at this one. Eldir. He had come back, and when she was insolent to his face he had attacked, getting in a blow on her arm. She had endured worse, though, and from watching her father - her father, it hurt to think of him so much - from watching her father fight she had learned. He got a blow on her arm, but when he was basking in triumph she struck, leaping forward and slashing his face.  
  
'I am no fool,' she had hissed. 'And I am not a child.'  
  
And yet another memory, from her meeting with Tahir.  
  
'I need you to do something for me,' she had said.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'I need you to get the youngest Telcontar boy.'  
  
'The youngest?' Tahir had said cooly. 'Are you sure you don't want Celebros Telcontar?'  
  
'You couldn't get him.'  
  
'I did before.'  
  
'I don't believe you.'  
  
Tahir had shrugged. 'You don't have to believe me,' he had said casually.  
  
'Well, if you got him before, he must have gotten away. Right? He's still alive.'  
  
Tahir glared at her and nodded grudgingly.  
  
'Then I want the youngest boy. Vildir Telcontar. He's in Minas Tirith now, and -'  
  
'I know where he is,' Tahir had said scornfully. 'Everyone knows where each Telcontar is, among us. If they go out to visit Ithilien, we know.'  
  
'Do you know the caves of Ithilien?'  
  
'Yes. I know them quite well.'  
  
'I want you to meet me there. I'll draw you a map to show you where. Take the boy from the City and bring him there. Cover your tracks very carefully. No one must follow. Do not kill him. You may rough him up if necessary. But my orders are that no one follows and no one knows who either of us are. Send me a hawk when you have him.'  
  
'As you wish, my lady.'  
  
'I'm not a lady.'  
  
Tahir grinned. 'But you are a beautiful human woman. I can't abide these Elves I must consort with. Where do you come from?'  
  
'Nowhere,' she snapped. 'It doesn't matter.'  
  
'Ah, but it does. Let me see if I can place it. Rohan?'  
  
She glared at him and grudgingly nodded. 'I left there when I was fifteen.'  
  
'How long ago would that have been?'  
  
'A long time,' she said quietly.  
  
'Too long?' he asked. 'Do you miss your family?'  
  
'My parents would shun me if I ever returned,' she said quietly. 'I had to kill to stay alive, and we were not a family of lawbreakers.'  
  
'Only of tragedy,' Tahir said sadly, and Erea had a feeling he had been watching her more closely than she would have liked.  
  
Thus were her memories. Bound tightly and cold, she fell asleep.  
  
+++++  
  
The dream went on and on, never ending, never leaving him in peace.  
  
A girl, maybe fifteen, with black braids and brown eyes, a smile on her face - he had a feeling it hadn't been there for a long time.  
  
She was wearing a blue dress that reached her feet - she had worn shorter, he was sure, and he had not approved of it. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a crown of flowers. He felt himself think without thinking, She hasn't done this since she was little, with her sister. Something's different today.  
  
And then the dream would flash to a dark room, and he felt tears on his cheeks hot and stinging, and he thought, Something was different that day. It was the last day. Did she know? My star, my little girl, did you know?  
  
He had a feeling that he had forced himself to believe it.  
  
Another flash, to a grave that he recognized in his sleeping mind and that he had never been to in his dream mind. This was the girl's grave, his sleeping mind said, and he was crying, both in the dream self and in his sleep.  
  
Flash.  
  
A woman, dead in his arms as he held her to him, dead of greif but whispering for him to stay, she had been alive, just a minute ago she was alive. And both selves cried.  
  
Flash.  
  
A tavern, and a man taking a careless sip of wine. Again, the sleeping self had recognition and the dream-self none. The man in the tavern, with the wine, he was saying something, 'The one I speak of is the group of bandits that control the Fields.'  
  
Flash.  
  
Grasses and dismounting from a horse. A curt nod from the man he had met in the tavern, and breif introductions.  
  
Flash.  
  
A warning to one of the men. Pushing him to the ground, and the dream self, up in the other man's face, said roughly, Never say that again. You never talk about my family, you filty pig. You have no right.  
  
And the man nodded fervently, fear in his eyes, and the sleeping self saw his own reflection that was not his own in the other man's eyes.  
  
Flash.  
  
Watching them beat a man on the border of Gondor, a guard, and standing by, emotionless, careless.  
  
Flash.  
  
Looking up and seeing a boy standing and watching them, unconcerned of the danger...  
  
Flash.  
  
The dream self, the first one to see the boy and to announce it.  
  
Flash.  
  
My purpose is to join you.  
  
Flash.  
  
A swordfight, and that boy, that little boy, that amazing boy. I am no fool. And I am not a child.  
  
Flash.  
  
A brother. A brother. A family, after all this time with none.  
  
Flash.  
  
And then death and dying - and watching his brother's tears, and hearing his brother's words.  
  
Flash.  
  
And then Earil was nothing.  
  
+++++  
  
And Celebros Ithilron Telcontar would wake with that in his bed, every night without fail, with a single scream of agony and defeat and despair.  
  
And so one night he left. 


	8. Intermission: Seasons

The weeks became months, and the emotion surrounding Celebros' sudden disappearence faded to worry because there was no sign and no word. A year came and went, and the days and seasons seemed to have fled like startled birds, and autumn and winter and spring and summer had been one and nothing. No snow came, and the leaves browned everywhere and always, and the summer was indecipherable from the spring and the autumn. Only by counted days did they know that a year had passed. And the memories they held, and the hope that there would be word, and the peace within themselves. Friendships blossomed, and Elfwine was married, and his wife found herself with child, and they hoped and prayed that Celebros would come, for they wished him to be a Watcher for the child in the tradition of Rohan, to care for the child if ever they could not. But there was no word, and although the hawk sent with the invitation came back without its letter, there was no reply, and over all the seasons and the days, the leaves tumbled over Earil's undisturbed grave, but fresh roses always found their way there in the hands of one of the children. And even as the days passed and the hope of seeing him again soon faded to a wisp, a husk, there was in the Wild a young man finding himself within the seasons. 


End file.
